
Pass $ 1 6 5 *3 
BookX^S 



/S^4 



ELEMENTS 



OF THE 



PHILOSOPHY 



THE HUMAN MIND. 

BT 

DUGALD STEWART. 



REVISED AND ABRIDGED, 

WITH CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY NOTES, 

FOR THE USE OF COLLEGES AND SCHOOLS. 



By FRANCIS BOWEN, 

1LT0ED PROFEBBOE OF MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY IN HARV4KD COLLEGE 



V 
NEW EDITION. 



BOSTON: 
WILLIAM H. DENNET 
1864. 



^\S^ 



>v* 



Entered according to Act of Congreas, in the year 1864, by 

WILLIAM H. DENNET, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



PREFACE 



Though Dugald Stewart has not added many new 
truths to the Philosophy of Mind, and has hardly at- 
tempted to solve its more abstruse and intricate prob- 
lems, he has done much to render it intelligible, popu- 
lar, and useful. He is a great master of clear, har- 
monious, and ornate diction, which often rises into 
eloquence, and never fails to impart interest and ani- 
mation to the least promising portions of his subject. 
But refined taste and elegant scholarship are among 
the least of his merits ; the doctrines which he incul- 
cates are those of vigorous common sense and sound 
morality, never deformed by a love of paradox, and 
never compromising the interests of truth by straining 
after novelty, or by unseasonable attempts to appear 
ingenious and profound. The principles of social order 
and good government, and the great interests of virtue 
and religion, were never more impressively taught, or 
eloquently defended, than by this professor of Scotch 
metaphysics, who had the honor to reckon among his 
pupils many who have since attained the highest dis- 
tinction in the walks of science, literature, and states- 
manship. His writings, though he modestly says of 
them that they are " professedly elementary," have been 
more generally studied than those of any English 
author upon the same subject during the last half cen- 
tury ; and it is a striking proof of their merits, and of 
the spirit of candor and amiability which is manifested 
in them, that they have never been assailed by harsh 



PREFACE. 



or vindictive criticism. Those who controverted his 
opinions have always spoken of him with much respect, 
while his disciples appear to have regarded him, espe- 
cially towards the close of his long and useful life, with 
affectionate veneration. 

His principal work, " The Elements of the Philoso- 
phy of the Human Mind," has been frequently repub- 
lished in this country, and has been much used as a 
text-book of instruction in metaphysical science in our 
colleges and schools. When applied to such a purpose, 
however, it must be admitted that it has many redun- 
dancies and some defects. The style, with all its mer- 
its, is somewhat diffuse, the digressions are numerous, 
and the illustrations and citations from other authors, 
more copious than the subject requires, or than the pa- 
tience of the reader will always warrant. I have 
pruned these superfluities with great freedom, my pur- 
pose being to leave the statement of doctrine and the 
course of the argument encumbered with no more ex- 
traneous matter than seemed necessary for the entertain- 
ment of the pupil. Mr. Stewart's caution in the state- 
ment of his opinions may appear excessive, and it occa- 
sionally betrays him into vagueness of expression and a 
kind of indirect style, which leaves his meaning to be 
ascertained rather by inference, than from the obvious 
import of the language. He also takes for granted the 
reader's acquaintance with the writings and opinions of 
his more celebrated contemporaries and predecessors, 
thus leaving many blanks to be filled by those who are 
not particularly conversant with philosophical studies. 
I have endeavored to supply some of these deficiencies 
in the notes ; but wishing not to swell the dimensions 
of the book, and at the same time to make it contain 
as much as possible of Stewart's own speculations, I 
have preferred silently to omit those passages which 
stood in great need of annotation, instead of introduc- 
ing them with a commentary which should seem dis- 
proportioned in amount to the text. But these abridg- 
ments have been very carefully made, and I hope it will 
be found that they do not mar the continuity of the 
work, or leave any gaps which may create obscurity. 



I'KEFACE. V 

Whatever I have added to this edition, either in the 
text or the notes, is inclosed in angular brackets, [ ], 
so that the reader may easily distinguish Mr. Stewart's 
words from those of his commentator. For the conven- 
ience both of teachers and learners, I have also given a 
sort of analysis and abstract of the doctrines and argu- 
ments of the author, by prefixing to many of the para- 
graphs a brief statement, in italic type, of the subject to 
which it relates, or of the point which it is designed to 
prove. These headings of the sections are not inclosed 
in brackets, being sufficiently indicated by their nature, 
and by the change of type. Italics have also been 
freely used in the body of the work, in order to direct 
the student's attention to the particular words or sen- 
tences which contain the gist of the paragraph ; — a pre- 
caution which diffuse and digressive writers may often 
profitably adopt, in order that their readers may never 
be at a loss to know what they are driving at. 

The first portion of Mr. Stewart's " Elements " was 
published in 1792 ; and " after an interval of more than 
twenty years," he presented to the public the second 
volume. It was less successful than its predecessor, as 
the subject of which it treats is more abstruse and for- 
bidding than the former theme, and not so well adapted 
to the author's peculiar tastes and powers. The re- 
searches and speculations of later writers, moreover, 
especially of Sir John Herschel, Mr. J. S. Mill, and 
Dr. Whewell, have deprived this later volume, in great 
part, of the interest and importance which it formerly 
possessed. I have, therefore, made comparatively little 
use of it in this abridgment, omitting the latter half of 
it altogether, and striking out large portions of the first 
two chapters. Mr. Stewart's own annotations, a double 
tier of which accompanies, and almost exceeds in quan- 
tity, the text, have also been diligently winnowed and 
bolted, so that they are reduced to a small portion of 
their primitive bulk. Translations are given of the 
Latin, Greek, and French citations, the original being 
often removed to make room for them. 

The following extract from Mr. Stewart's Preface to 
his second volume, is a sufficient indication of the pur- 



VI PREFACE. 

pose for which this abridgment of the whole work has 
been prepared. The book, he says, " is more particu- 
larly intended for the use of academical students ; and 
is offered to them as a guide or assistant, at that impor- 
tant stage of their progress when, the usual course of 
discipline being completed, an inquisitive mind is natu- 
rally led to review its past attainments, and to form 
plans for its future improvement. In the prosecution 
of this design, I have not aimed at the establishment 
of new theories ; far less have I aspired to the invention 
of and new organ for the discovery of truth. My prin- 
cipal object is to aid my readers in unlearning the 
scholastic errors which, in a greater or less degree, still 
maintain their ground in our most celebrated seats of 
learning; and by subjecting to free, but I trust, not 
skeptical discussion, the more enlightened though dis- 
cordant systems of modern logicians, to accustom the 
understanding to the unfettered exercise of its native 
capacities. That several of the views opened in the 
following pages appear to myself original, and of some 
importance, I will not deny ; but the reception these 
may meet with, I shall regard as a matter of compara- 
tive indifference, if my labors be found useful in train- 
ing the mind to those habits of reflection on its own 
operations, which may enable it to superadd to the 
instructions of the schools, that higher education which 
no schools can bestow." 

"While these sheets were passing through the press, the 
second volume of Sir William Hamilton's very hand- 
some edition of "The Collected Works of Dugald 
Stewart" was received in this country. It contains 
the first volume of " Elements of the Philosophy of the 
Human Mind," corresponding to the first seven chap- 
ters of the present work. I have examined it with care, 
in the hope of finding some new matter which might be 
added to this volume. But this hope was disappointed. 
The additions are insignificant in extent and impor- 
tance ; they wouid not fill a page, and consist merely 
of some additional references and brief citations from 
other authors. Indeed, Sir William Hamilton says in 
the Preface, " there has been nothing added by me, in 



PREFACE. Vll 

the view of vindicating, of supplementing or confirming, 
of qualifying or criticising, Mr. Stewart's doctrines." 
He also remarks, that though the volume was often 
reprinted during the author's lifetime, after the second 
edition in 1802, " no alteration or amplification, — none 
certainly of any consequence, has been hitherto incor- 
porated" with it. Some "intended additions were 
indeed supplied," when the third volume was published, 
in 1827 ; and he observes that " these have only now 
been entered in their proper places." Of course, he 
here refers only to editions published in Great Britain ; 
as these additions were " entered in their proper places " 
in an American edition published several years ago, 
from which the present volume was printed. As the 
Preface states that Mr. Stewart was not satisfied with 
the translations of quotations not in English, which 
were made for the Boston edition of 1821, it is proper 
to add, that these quotations have been translated anew 
for this volume. They are not translated at all in Sir 
William Hamilton's edition. 

Cambridge, September 25, 1854. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION, 

PAOS 

Part I. Nature and Object of the Philosophy of the Human Mind 1 
II. Utility of the Philosophy of the Human Mind . . .11 

CHAPTER I. 
Or the Powers of External Perception . . . .30 

Sect. I. Theories formed by Philosophers to explain the manner in 

which the Mind perceives external Objects . . .30 

II. Of Dr. Reid's Speculations on the Subject of Perception 38 

III. Of the Origin of our Knowledge 44 

CHAPTER II. 
Op Attention 49 

CHAPTER III. 
Op Conception 76 

CHAPTER IV. 
Of Abstraction 92 

Sect. I. General Observations on this Faculty of the Mind . . 92 
II. Objects of our Thoughts, when we employ general terms 97 

III. Remarks on the opinions of some modern Philosophers on 

the subject of the foregoing Section . . . .112 

IV. Inferences with respect to the Use of Language as an In- 

strument of Thought, and the Errors in Reasoning to 
which it occasionally gives rise . . . .125 



X CONTENTS. 

Sect. V. Of the Purposes to which the Powers of Abstraction and 

Generalization are subservient 129 

VI. Of the Errors to which we are liable in consequence of a 

rash Application of general Principles . . . .137 
VII. Differences in the Characters of Individuals arising from 

different Habits of Abstraction and Generalization . 143 



CHAPTER V. 
Of the Association of Ideas 150 

Part I. Of the Influence of Association in regulating 

the Succession of our Thoughts . . .151 

Sect. I. General Observations on this Part of our Constitution . 151 
II. Of the Principles of Association among our Ideas . . 160 

III. Of the Power which the Mind has over the Train of its 

Thoughts 165 

IV. Illustrations of this Doctrine 169 

1. Of Wit 169 

2. Of Rhyme 173 

3. Of Poetical Fancy .177 

4. Of Invention in the Arts and Sciences . . . 181 
V. Application of the Principles stated in the foregoing Sec- 
tions, to explain the Phenomena of Dreaming . . 1 88 

Part II. Of the Influence of Association on the Intel- 
lectual and on the Active Powers . . . 208 

Sect. I. Of the Influence of casual Associations on our speculative 

Conclusions 208 

II. Of the Influence of the Association of Ideas on our Judg- 
ments in Matters of Taste 227 

III. Of the Influence of Association on our active Principles 

and on our moral Judgments 239 

IV. General Remarks on the foregoing Subjects . . 248 



CHAPTER VI. 
Of Memory . 254 

Sect. I. General Observations on Memory 254 

II Of the Varieties of Memory in different Individuals . 269 
HI. Of the Improvement of Memory 290 



CONTENTS. XI 

Sect. IV. Of the Aid which the Memory derives from Philosophical 

Arrangement 295 

V. Effects of committing to Writing our acquired Knowledge 304 

VI. Of Artificial Memory 311 

VII. Importance of making a proper Selection among the Ob- 
jects of our Knowledge, in order to derive Advantage 
from the Acquisitions of Memory . . . .315 

VIII. Of the Connection between Memory and Genius . . 323 



CHAPTER VII. 
Of Imagination 330 

Sect. I. Analysis of Imagination 330 

II. Imagination considered in its Relation to the Fine Arts . 337 

III. Relation of Imagination and of Taste to Genius . . 349 

IV. Influence of Imagination on Character and Happiness . 351 
V. Inconveniences resulting from an ill-regulated Imagination 357 

VI. Uses to which the Power of Imagination is subservient . 367 



CHAPTER VIII. 
Of Reason 372 

Sect. I. On the Vagueness and Ambiguity of Philosophical Lan 

guage relative to this part of our Constitution . 372 

II. Of Mathematical Axioms 380 

III. Laws of Belief connected with the exercise of Consciot* 

ness, Memory, Perception, and Reasoning . s±2 



CHAPTER IX. 
Of Reasoning and of Deductive Evidence . . . iOf 

Sect. I. 1. Doubts with respect to Locke's Distinction between *b ; 

Powers d"f Intuition and of Reasoning . . . 40f 
2. Conclusions obtained by a Process of Deduction oft#, 

mistaken for Intuitive Judgments . . . ilO 

II. Of General Reasoning 415 

III. Of Mathematical Demonstration .... 423 

IV. Reasonings concerning Probable or Contingent Truths . 456 



INTRODUCTION. 



PART I. 

OF THE NATURE AND OBJECT OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE 
HUMAN MIND. 

Why the Philosophy of the Human Mind has hitherto made 
little progress. — The prejudice which is commonly entertain- 
ed against metaphysical speculations, seems to arise chiefly 
from two causes : First, from an apprehension that the subjects 
about which they are employed are placed beyond the reach 
of the human faculties ; and, secondly, from a belief that these 
subjects have no relation to the business of life. 

The frivolous and absurd discussions which abound in the 
writings of most metaphysical authors, afford but too many 
arguments in justification of these opinions ; and if such dis- 
cussions were to be admitted as a fair specimen of what the 
human mind is able to accomplish in this department of science, 
the contempt, into which it has fallen of late, might with jus- 
tice be regarded as no inconsiderable evidence of the progress 
which true philosophy has made in the present age. Among 
the various subjects of inquiry, however, which, in consequence 
of the vague use of language, are comprehended under the gen- 
eral title of Metaphysics,* there are some, which are essentially 



* [The term Physics comprehends the various branches of Physical or 
Natural Philosophy, such as Chemistry, Mechanics, Astronomy, Botany, 
etc. It properly denotes the science of things actually existing, whether thone 

1 



2 INTRODUCTION. 

distinguished from the rest, both by the degree of evidence 
which accompanies their principles, and by the relation which 
they bear to the useful sciences and arts ; and it has unfortu- 
nately happened, that these have shared in that general dis- 
credit into which the other branches of metaphysics have 
justly fallen. To this circumstance is probably to be ascribed 
the little progress which has hitherto been made in the philos- 
ophy of the human mind ; — a science so interesting in its 
nature, and so important in its applications, that it could scarce- 
ly have failed, in these inquisitive and enlightened times, to 
have excited a very general attention, if it had not acciden- 
tally been classed, in the public opinion, with the vain and un- 
profitable disquisitions of the schoolmen. 

In order to obviate these misapprehensions with respect to 
the subject of the following work, I have thought it proper, 
in this preliminary chapter, first, to explain the nature of the 
truths which I propose to investigate ; and, secondly, to point 
out some of the more important applications of which they are 
susceptible. 

things are material or immaterial ; but it is usually confined to things ma- 
terial, and thus signifies the science of the external world. After Aristotle 
had written books upon various branches of Physics, he composed certain 
other treatises, to which he gave the name of Metaphysics, Or things coming 
after Physics. In its widest signification, therefore, the term Metaphysics 
comprehends every study or science which does not belong to Physics. It 
is the science of pure ideas, or of abstract and universal truths ; the objects of 
this science lie beyond the range of the senses, and are not attainable by 
experience. That every event must have a cause — that qualities or attri- 
butes presuppose a substance in which they inhere — that the human will is 
free, etc., are propositions which belong to Metaphysics. By many writers, 
however, the word Metaphysics is loosely applied to denote the Philoso- 
phy of Mind. Such a Philosophy treats of the Association of Ideas, Mem- 
ory, Attention, and other phenomena of mind ; and as it consists only in 
collecting facts and making inductions, it is properly an experimental sci- 
ence, and ought to be ranked under the head of Physics rather than of Meta- 
physics. Psychology is the latest term in use to denote the science of men- 
tal phenomena, while Physics, in its narrower signification, comprehends 
only material phenomena ; the one is the philosophy of mind, the other is 
the philosophy of matter.] 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

Our notions both of Matter and Mind are merely relative. — 
The notion we annex to the words, matter and mind, as is well 
remarked by Dr. Eeid, (in his Essays on the Active Powers of 
Man,) are merely relative. If I am asked, what I mean by 
matter ? I can only explain myself by saying, it is that which 
is extended, figured, colored, movable, hard or soft, rough or 
smooth, hot or cold ; — that is, I can define it in no other way 
than by enumerating its sensible qualities. It is not matter, or 
body, which I perceive by my senses ; but only extension, figure, 
color, and certain other qualities, which the constitution of my na- 
ture leads me to refer to something, which is extended, figured, 
and colored. The case is precisely similar with respect to mind. 
We are not immediately conscious of its existence, but we are 
conscious of sensation, thought, and volition ; operations, which 
imply the existence of something which feels, thinks, and wills. 
Every man, too, is impressed with an irresistible conviction, 
that all these sensations, thoughts, and volitions, belong to one 
and the same being ; to that being, which he calls himself; a 
being, which he is led, by the constitution of his nature, to con- 
sider as something distinct from his body, and as not liable to be 
impaired by the loss or mutilation of any of its organs. 

Proof of the separate existence of Mind. — From these con- 
siderations, it appears, that we have the same evidence for the ex- 
istence of mind, that we have for the existence of body ; nay, it 
there be any difference between the two cases, that we have 
stronger evidence for it ; inasmuch as the one is suggested to us 
by the subjects of our own consciousness,* and the other merely 



* [ Consciousness is usually denned to be the notice which the mind takes of 
its own operations. If I think or remember, I know, or am conscious, that I 
think or remember ; if I am pained or pleased, I know that I am so pained 
or pleased. Thus, Consciousness is the witness or reporter of all mental 
phenomena, just as the senses witness and report the phenomena of the 
external universe. Consciousness reports the present phenomena of mind, 
as memory reports its past phenomena. 

By most writers, Consciousness is spoken of as if it were a separate 
faculty of mind, whose special office it is to take cognizance of whatever 
is passing within us. But Dr. Thomas Brown, Mr. James Mill, Sir W 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

by the objects of our perceptions : and in this light, undoubtedly, 
the fact would appear to every person, were it not, that, from 
our earliest years, the attention is engrossed with the qualities 
and laws of matter, an acquaintance with which is absolutely 
necessary for the preservation of our animal existence. Hence 
it is, that these phenomena occupy our thoughts more than those 
of mind ; that we are perpetually tempted to explain the latter 
[the phenomena of mind] by the analogy of the former [the 
phenomena of matter], and even to endeavor to refer them to 
the same general laws ; and that we acquire habits of inatten- 
tion to the subjects of our consciousness, too strong to be after- 
wards surmounted, without the most persevering industry. 

If the foregoing observations be well founded, they establish 
the distinction between mind and matter, without any long pro- 
cess of metaphysical reasoning : * for if our notions of both are 



Hamilton, and others, justly object to this doctrine. Having a sensation, 
and being conscious of that sensation, are not two things ; the thing is one, 
the names only are two. If I say I feel a sensation, the expression is tau- 
tological, for the feeling and the sensation are the same thing ; the sensation 
is the feeling. And to say lam conscious of a feeling, is merely to say that 
I feel it ; to have a feeling is to be conscious, and to be conscious is to have 
a feeling. A single perception is simple and indivisible ; it cannot be ana- 
lyzed into a fact and the consciousness of that fact, for the event itself be- 
ing an act of knowing, it does not exist, if it be not known to exist. See 
Sir W. Hamilton's Discussions on Philosophy, 2d. ed. p. 47. James Mill's 
Analysis of the Human Mind, I. p. 170. Bowen's Essays, p. 131. Dr. T. 
Brown's Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind, I. pp. 244-261.] 

* In stating the relative notions which we have of mind and of body, I 
have avoided the use of the word substance, as I am unwilling to furnish the 
slightest occasion for controversy ; and have contented myself with defin- 
ing mind to be that which feels, thinks, wills, hopes, fears, desires, etc. 
That my consciousness of these and other operations is necessarily accom- 
panied with a conviction of my own existence, and with a conviction that 
all of them belong to one and the same being, is not an hypothesis, but a 
fact ; of which it is no more possible for me to doubt, than of the reality 
of my own sensations or volitions. 

[Substance is the unknown something which underlies and supports all the 
qualities by which any thing is made known to us. We can define any par- 
ticular body only by saying, that it is something which is extended, colored, 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

merely relative; if we know the one only by such sensible 
qualities as extension, figure, and solidity ; and the other, by 
such operations as sensation, thought, and volition ; we are cer- 
tainly entitled to say, that matter and mind, considered as ob- 
jects of human study, are essentially different ; the science of 
the former resting ultimately on the phenomena exhibited to 
our senses ; that of the latter, on the phenomena of which we 
are conscious. Instead, therefore, of objecting to the scheme of 
materialism, that its conclusions are false, it would be more ac- 
curate to say, that its aim is unphilosophical. It proceeds on a 
misapprehension of the proper object of science ; the difficulty 
which it professes to remove being manifestly placed beyond 
the reach of our faculties. Surely, when we attempt to explain 
the nature of that principle which feels and thinks and wills, by 
saying that it is a material substance, or that it is the result of 
material organization, we impose on ourselves by words ; for- 
getting, that matter as well as mind is known to us by its quali- 
ties and attributes alone, and that we are totally ignorant of the 
essence of either.* 

The Philosophy of Mind susceptible of cultivation and pro- 
gress. — It would probably contribute much to accelerate the 
progress of the philosophy of mind, if, (1.) a distinct explana- 
tion were given of its nature and object ; and if, (2.) some gen- 



hard or soft, hot or cold, etc. ; that is, by enumerating those properties or 
attributes, by means of which it manifests itself to our senses. So we can 
define mind only by saying, that it is something which feels, thinks, remem- 
bers, conceives, etc. ; that is, we enumerate the qualities or faculties 
through which it manifests itself in consciousness. In both cases, this 
unknown something is called substance, which word, in plain English, means 
that which stands under, or upholds, its various qualities.] 

* Some metaphysicians, who appear to admit the truth of the foregoing 
reasoning, have further urged, that for any thing we can prove to the con- 
trary, it is possible, that the unknown substance which has the qualities of 
extension, figure, and color, may be the same with the unknown substance 
which has the attributes of feeling, thinking, and willing. But besides 
that this is only an hypothesis, which amounts to nothing more than a 
mere possibility, even if it were true, it would no more be proper to say 
of mind, that it is material, than to say of body, that it is spiritual 
1* 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

eral rules were laid down, with respect to the proper method of 
conducting the study of it. 

Upon a slight attention to the operations of our minds, they 
appear to be so complicated, and so infinitely diversified, that it 
seems to be impossible to reduce them to any general laws.* 

* [What are general laws, or laws of nature, as they are generally termed ? 
Few phrases are more frequently and glibly used than these, yet, in the 
minds of most persons, they have but a vague and uncertain signification. 
It is worth while, then, to attempt to gain some clear and precise notions 
respecting them. 

A law of nature is nothing more than a general fact, or rather, a general 
statement comprehending under it many similar individual facts. A law is the 
result of a classification, and individual things are classed together on ac- 
count of some similarity or uniformity that has been discovered between 
them. 

1. Objects that exist are classed together on account of their resemblance 
to each other. Such classification may consist of several successive steps, 
and is the proper work of Natural History. Thus, all objects whatsoever 
are divided into three great kingdoms, the Animal, the Vegetable, and the 
Mineral. The Animal kingdom is subdivided into four classes, Verte- 
brates, Molluscs, Articulates, and Radiates or Zoophites. Again, Verte- 
brates are divided into Mammifers, Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes. All the 
animals ranked under any one of these classes agree with each other in 
certain respects ; all Vertebrates, for instance, have a vertebral column 
inclosing a spinal cord ; all Birds have an apparatus, or the rudiments of 
an apparatus, for flying. The General Fact, that all the animals so classed 
possess the given organ or property, is called a Law of Nature. It is a 
Law of Nature, for instance, that all Vertebrates have a spinal cord and a 
skull inclosing a brain ; it is also a Law, that all Mammifers and Birds 
have warm red blood, and a heart composed of four compartments. 
Another Law of Nature is, that every animal is produced from an egg. 
These Laws are not necessary and immutable truths, but are mere induc- 
tions founded on experience ; they hold good only until an instance is 
discovered to the contrary. Whales were once classed with Fishes ; they 
are now properly ranked with Mammifers, because unlike Fishes, they 
suckle their young. It was once supposed to be a Law of Nature, that all 
Bwans are white ; black swans have since been discovered. 

2. Events that take place, also, are classed together on account of their 
uniformity. Thus, it is a General Fact, or Law of Nature, that pressure 
on a fluid is propagated equally in all directions, and that a heavy body, 
if unsupported, falls to the earth. Many of these General Facts are so 
familiar, that we never think of formally enunciating them ; " no science/ 



INTRODUCTION. 



In consequence, however, of a more accurate examination, the 
prospect clears up ; and the phenomena, which appeared, at first, 



gays J. S. Mill, " was needed to teach men that food nourishes, that water 
drowns, or quenches thirst, that the sun gives light and heat, that bodies 
fall to the ground." These laws, also, are not necessary truths, but are 
founded on mere induction, — often on a not very extensive one. A 
newly discovered metal, being found, by a single experiment, to be fusible 
at a certain temperature, it is at once declared to be a Law of Nature, that 
it does melt, always has melted, and always will melt, at the ascertained 
degree of heat. It is certainly possible, though not probable, that another 
piece of the metal should be discovered which will not melt at this tem- 
perature ; such an instance would be only a parallel to the case of the 
black swans. A particular event, comprehended under the statement of a 
Law, is not properly said to be caused by the Law, but only to be a case, 
or instance, happening under the Law. A cow does not suckle its calf be* 
cause it is a Mammifer, but it is called a Mammifer because it suckles its 
calf. So, it is not a law of Hydrostatics which causes water to remain at 
the same level in the two arms of a bent tube ; but the fact, that the water 
stands at this level, is ranked among many other facts, which are compre- 
hended under the general statement, called a Law, of Hydrostatics. Grav- 
itation does not make the stone fall, but the particular fact, that this stone 
fell, is comprehended under the General Eact, or Law, of Gravitation. In 
like manner, Gravitation does not make the earth revolve in an elliptical 
orbit round the sun ; but the fact, that the earth revolves in this manner, 
is ranked with the falling of a stone, and with many other facts of a similar 
character, under the general statement, or Law, of Gravitation. 

Hence it is abundantly evident, to adopt Mr. Mill's language, that " the 
expression, Laws of Nature, means nothing but the uniformities which exist 
among natural phenomena, when reduced to their simplest expression." 
The Laws of Nature do not account for, or explain, the phenomena of na- 
ture ; they only describe them. Description and classification are the sole 
employments of Physical science. 

To account for, or explain, the operations of nature, we must have 
recourse to Metaphysics — to something after, or above, nature. We must 
ascend to the notion of Cause. The maxim, " every event must have a cause," 
is not, like the so-called Laws of Nature, a mere induction, founded on 
experience, and holding good only until an instance is discovered to the 
contrary ; it is a necessary and immutable truth. It is not derived from 
observation of natural phenomena, but is superimposed upon such obser- 
vation by a necessity of the human intellect. It is not made known through 
the senses ; and its falsity, under any circumstances, is not possible — is not 
even conceivable. The Cause, to which it points us, is not to be found in 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

to be too various for our comprehension, are found to be th* 
result of a comparatively small number of simple and uncom- 
pounded faculties, or of simple and uncompounded principles of 
action. These faculties and principles are the general laws of 
our constitution, and hold the same place in the philosophy of 
mind, that the general laws we investigate in physics, hold in 
that branch of science. In both cases, the laws which nature 
has established are to be investigated only by an examination 
of facts ; and in both cases, a knowledge of these laws leads to 
an explanation of an infinite number of phenomena. 

In the investigation of physical laws, it is well known that 
our inquiries must always terminate in some general fact, of 
which no account can be given, but that such is the constitution 
of nature. After we have established, for example, from the 
astronomical phenomena, the universality of the law of grav- 
itation, it may still be asked, whether this law implies the con- 
stant agency of mind ; and (upon the supposition that it does) 
whether it be probable that the Deity always operates imme- 
diately, or by means of subordinate instruments ? But these 
questions, however curious, do not fall under the province of the 
natural philosopher. It is sufficient for his purpose, if the uni- 
versality of the fact be admitted. 

The case is exactly the same in the philosophy of mind. 
When we have once ascertained a general fact ; such as, the 
various laws which regulate the Association of Ideas, or the de- 
pendence of Memory on that effort of the mind which we call 
Attention ; it is all we ought to aim at, in this branch of science. 
If we proceed no further than facts for which we have the ev- 
idence of our own consciousness, our conclusions will be no less 
certain, than those in physics ; but if our curiosity leads us to 
attempt an explanation of the Association of Ideas, by certain 



nature. The mere Physicist, after vainly searching, ever since the world 
began, for a single instance of it, has at length abandoned the attempt as 
hopeless, and now confines himself to the mere description of natural phe- 
nomena. The true cause of these phenomena must be sought for in the 
realm, not of matter, but of mind.] 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

supposed vibrations, or other changes, in the state of the brain ; 
or to explain Memory, by means of supposed impressions and 
traces in the sensorium ; we evidently blend a collection of im- 
portant and well- ascertained truths, with principles which rest 
wholly on conjecture.* 

The Analogy of Matter no Guide to the Philosophy of Mind. 
— Beside this inattention to the proper limits of philosophical 
inquiry, other sources of error, from which the science of phys- 
ics is entirely exempted, have contributed to retard the pro- 
gress of the philosophy of mind. Of these, the most important 
proceed from that disposition which is so natural to every per- 
son, at the commencement of his philosophical pursuits, to ex- 
plain intellectual and moral phenomena by the analogy of the 
material world. 

I before took notice of those habits of inattention to the sub- 
jects of our consciousness, which take their rise in that period 
of our lives when we are necessarily employed in acquiring a 
knowledge of the properties and laws of matter. In conse- 
quence of this early familiarity with the phenomena of the ma- 
terial world, they appear to us less mysterious than those of 
mind ; and we are apt to think that we have advanced one step 
in explaining the latter, when we can point out some analogy 
between them and the former. It is owing to the same circum- 
stance, that we have scarcely any appropriated language with 

* [" When I speak," says Crousaz, in his Art of Thinking, " of desire, 
contentment, trouble, apprehension, doubt, certainty, of affirming, denying, ap- 
proving, blaming, — I pronounce words the meaning of which I distinctly 
understand ; and yet I do not represent the things spoken of under any 
image or corporeal form. While the intellect, however, is thus busy about 
its own phenomena, the imagination is also at work in presenting its ana- 
logical theories ; but so far from aiding us, it only misleads Our steps and 
retards our progress. Would you know what thought is 1 It is precisely 
that which passes within you when you think. Stop but here, and you 
are sufficiently informed. But the imagination, eager to proceed further, 
would gratify our curiosity by comparing it to fire, to vapor, or to other 
active and subtile principles in the material world. And to what can all 
this tend, but to divert our attention from what thought is, and to fix it 
upon what it is not 1 "] 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

respect to mind, and that the words which express its different 
operations, are almost all borrowed from the objects of our 
senses.* It must, however, appear manifest, upon a very little 
reflection, that as the two subjects are essentially distinct, and 
as each of them has its peculiar laws, the analogies we are 
pleased to fancy between them, can be of no use in illustrating 
either ; and that it is no less unphilosophical to attempt an ex- 
planation of Perception, or of the Association of Ideas, upon 
mechanical principles ; than it would be to explain the phenom- 
ena of gravitation, by supposing, as some of the ancients did, 
the particles of matter to be animated with principles of mo- 
tion ; or to explain the chemical phenomena of elective attrac- 
tions, by supposing the substances among which they are ob- 
served, to be endowed with thought and volition. — The analogy 
of matter, therefore, can be of no use in the inquiries which form 
the object of the following work ; but, on the contrary, is to be 
guarded against, as one of the principal sources of the errors to 
which we are liable. 



* [" If we critically examine any language, ancient or modern, and trace 
its several terms or phrases to their source, we shall find it hold invariably, 
that all the words made use of to denote spiritual and intellectual things, 
are in their origin metaphors, taken from objects of sense. This shows 
evidently, that the latter [objects of sense] have made the earliest impres- 
sions, have by consequence first obtained names in every tongue, and are 
still, as it were, more present with us, and strike the imagination more 
forcibly than the former [spiritual and intellectual things.] 

Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric, Book III. Chapter i. 3. 

Numberless instances might be given ; but a very few will suffice. Im- 
agination is derived from an optical image; acuteness, from a Latin word 
signifying the sharpness of a material instrument ; reflection, from bending 
back a ray of light ; apprehension originally meant seizure, or taking hold of 
something by the hand ; instil means to drop into; spirit is breath; animal 
and animation, (anima, uveaog) come from breath, and ultimately from wind; 
melancholy means black bile; faint-hearted and milk-livered have come to 
mean cowardly, and hard-hearted to mean cruel; understanding, foresight, in- 
clination, penetration, etc., suggest their own etymology.] 



INTRODUCTION. 11 



PART II. 

OF THE UTILITY OP THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 

Connection of the Arts and Sciences with each other. — It 
has been often remarked, that there is a mutual connection be- 
tween the different arts and sciences ; and that the improve- 
ments which are made in one branch of human knowledge, fre- 
quently throw light on others, to which it has apparently a very 
remote relation. The modern discoveries in astronomy and in 
pure mathematics have contributed to bring the art of naviga- 
tion to a degree of perfection formerly unknown. The rapid 
progress which has been lately made in astronomy, anatomy 
and botany, has been chiefly owing to the aid which these sci 
ences have received from the art of the optician. 

Although, however, the different departments of science and 
of art mutually reflect light on each other, it is not always nec- 
essary either for the philosopher or the artist to aim at the ac- 
quisition of general knowledge. Both of them may safely take 
many principles for granted, without being able to demonstrate 
their truth. A seaman, though ignorant of mathematics, may 
apply, with correctness and dexterity, the rules for finding the 
longitude. An astronomer or a botanist, though ignorant of 
optics, may avail himself of the use of the telescope or the mi- 
croscope. 

These observations are daily exemplified in the case of the 
artist ; who has seldom either inclination or leisure to speculate 
concerning the principles of his art. It is rarely, however, we 
meet with a man of science who has confined his studies wholly 
to one branch of knowledge. That curiosity, which he has been 
accustomed to indulge in the course of his favorite pursuit, will 
naturally extend itself to every remarkable object which falls 
under his observation, and can scarcely fail to be a source of 
perpetual dissatisfaction to his mind, till it has been so far grat- 
ified as to enable him to explain all the various phenomena 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

which his professional habits are every day presenting to his 
view. 

All the sciences and all human employments connected with the 
science of mind. — As every particular science is in this man- 
ner connected with others, to which it naturally directs the 
attention, so all the pursuits of life, whether they terminate in 
speculation or action, are connected with that general science 
which has the human mind for its object. The powers of the 
understanding are instruments which all men employ ; and his 
curiosity must be small indeed, who passes through life in total 
ignorance of faculties which his wants and necessities force him 
habitually to exercise, and which so remarkably distinguish man 
from the lower animals.* The phenomena resulting from these 

* [" 'T is evident," says David Hume, " that all the sciences have a re- 
lation, greater or less, to human nature, and that, however wide any of 
them may seem to run from it, they still return back by one passage or 
another. Even mathematics, natural philosophy, and natural religion, are in 
some measure dependent on the science of man ; since they lie under the 
cognizance of men, and are judged of by their powers and faculties. It is 
impossible to tell what changes and improvements we might make in 
these sciences, were we thoroughly acquainted with the extent and force 
of human understanding, and could explain the nature of the ideas we 
employ, and of the operations we perform in our reasonings. 

" If, therefore, the sciences of mathematics, natural philosophy, and 
natural religion, have such a dependence on the knowledge of man, what 
may be expected in the other sciences, whose connection with human na- 
ture is more close and intimate 1 The sole end of logic is to explain the 
principles and operations of our reasoning faculty, and the nature of our 
ideas ; morals and criticism regard our tastes and sentiments ; and politics 
consider men as united in society, and dependent on each other. In these 
four sciences of logic, morals, criticism, and politics, is comprehended 
almost every thing which it can any way import us to be acquainted with, 
or which can tend either to the improvement or ornament of the human 
mind. 

" Here, then, is the only expedient from which we can hope for success 
in our philosophical researches ; to leave the tedious, lingering method 
which we have hitherto followed ; and instead of taking, now and then, a 
castle or village on the frontier, to march up directly to the capital or cen- 
tre of these sciences, to human nature itself; which being once masters of, 
we may everywhere else hope for an easy victory. From this station, we 



INTRODUCTION". 13 

faculties and principles of the mind, are every moment soliciting 
our notice, and open to our examination a field of discovery as 
inexhaustible as the phenomena of the material world, and ex- 
hibiting not less striking marks of divine wisdom. 

' While all the sciences and all the pursuits of life have this 
common tendency to lead our inquiries to the philosophy of hu- 
man nature, this last branch of knowledge borrows its principles 
from no other science whatever. Hence there is something in 
the study of it which is peculiarly gratifying to a reflecting and 
inquisitive mind, and something in the conclusions to which it 
leads on which the mind rests with peculiar satisfaction. Till 
once our opinions are in some degree fixed with respect to it, 
we abandon ourselves, with reluctance, to particular scientific 
investigations ; and, on the other hand, a general knowledge of 
6uch of its principles as are most fitted to excite the curiosity, 
not only prepares us for engaging in other pursuits with more 
liberal and comprehensive views, but leaves us at liberty to 
prosecute them with a more undivided and concentrated at- 
tention. — 

Direct advantages of a study of the phenomena of mind. — It 
is not, however, merely as a subject of speculative curiosity that 
the principles of the human mind deserve a careful examina- 
tion. The advantages to be expected from a successful analysis 
of it are various ; and some of them of such importance, as to 
render it astonishing, that, amidst all the success with which the 
subordinate sciences have been cultivated, this, which compre- 
hends the principles of all of them, should be still suffered to 
remain in its infancy. 

I shall endeavor to illustrate a few of these advantages, be- 
ginning with what appears to me to be the most important of 



may extend our conquests over all those sciences which more intimately 
concern human life, and may afterward proceed at leisure to discover more 
fully those which are the objects of pure curiosity. There is no question 
of importance whose decision is not comprised in the science of man ; and 
there is none which can be decided with any certainty, before we become 
acquainted with that science."] 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

any ; the light which a philosophical analysis of the principles 
of ihe,mind would necessarily throw on the subjects of intellectual 
and moral education. 

The nature and purposes of education. — The most essential 
objects of education are the two following : First, to cultivate 
all the various principles of our nature, both speculative and 
active,* in such a manner as to bring them to the greatest per- 
fection of which they are susceptible ; and, secondly, by watch- 
ing over the impressions and associations which the mind re- 
ceives in early life, to secure it against the influence of prevail- 
ing errors ; and, as far as possible, to engage its prepossessions 
on the side of truth. It is only upon a philosophical analysis 
of the mind, that a systematical plan can be founded for the ac- 
complishment of either of these purposes. 

There are few individuals whose education has been con- 
ducted in every respect with attention and judgment. Almost 
every man of reflection is conscious, when he arrives at matu- 
rity, of many defects in his mental powers, and of many in- 
convenient habits, which might have been prevented or reme- 
died in his infancy or youth. Such a consciousness is the first 
step towards improvement ; and the person who feels it, if he 



* [By the speculative principles of our nature, Stewart here means the 
various powers or faculties of the intellect or the understanding, in the nar- 
rowest sense of these terms ; such as the faculties of perception, memory, 
judgment, imagination, etc. All these powers we might conceive to be in 
full employment, though man should lead a life of mere contemplation or 
reverie, never putting forth any voluntary exertion whatsoever, either of 
mind or body. What Stewart calls the active principles of human nature 
might be more properly termed principles of action, or rather impulses to ac- 
tion, — such as the appetites, desires, affections, self-love, and conscience. 
These stimulate us to exertion ; these point out ends to be pursued, while 
the intellect furnishes, as it were, the means for their attainment. 

" Reason the card, but passion is the gale." 

Stewart's phraseology here is faulty, for the intellectual powers, such as 
memory and imagination, may be just as active (that is, in as full exercise,) 
as the appetites or the conscience ; but the former do not stimulate man to 
voluntary exertion, unless they are conjoined with some desire.] 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

is possessed of resolution and steadiness, will not scruple to be- 
gin, even in advanced years, a new course of education for him- 
self. The degree of reflection and observation, indeed, which 
is necessary for this purpose, cannot be expected from any one 
at a very early period of life, as these are the last powers of the 
mind which unfold themselves ; but it is never too late to think 
of the improvement of our faculties ; and much progress may 
be made in the art of applying them successfully to their proper 
objects, or in obviating the inconveniences resulting from their 
imperfection, not only in manhood, but in old age. 

Injurious effects of exclusive addiction to one employment or 
'pursuit — It is not, however, to the mistakes of our early in- 
structors, that all our intellectual defects are to be ascribed. 
There is no profession or pursuit which has not habits peculiar 
to itself, and which does not leave some powers of the mind dor- 
mant, while it exercises and improves the rest. If we wish, 
therefore, to cultivate the mind to the extent of its capacity, we 
must not rest satisfied Avith that employment which its faculties 
receive from our particular situation in life. It is not in the awk- 
ward and professional form of a mechanic, who has strengthened 
particular muscles of his body by the habits of his trade, that 
we are to look for the perfection of our animal nature ; neither 
is it among men of confined pursuits, whether speculative or ac- 
tive, that we are to expect to find the human mind in its highest 
state of cultivation. A variety of exercises is necessary to pre- 
serve the animal frame in vigor and beauty ; and a variety of 
those occupations which literature and science afford, added to 
a promiscuous intercourse with the world, in the habits of con- 
versation and business, is no less necessary for the improvement 
of the understanding. I acknowledge, that there are some pro- 
fessions in which a man of very confined acquisitions may arrive 
at the first eminence, and in which he will perhaps be the more 
likely to excel, the more he has concentrated the whole force of 
his mind to one particular object. But such a person, ho'wever 
distinguished in his own sphere, is educated merely to be a lite- 
rary artisan, and neither attains the perfection nor the happi- 
ness of his nature. " That education only can be considered as 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

complete and generous, which" (in the language of Milton) 
" fits a man to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously, all 
the offices, both private and public, of peace and of war." 

I hope it will not be supposed, from the foregoing observa- 
tions, that they are meant to recommend an indiscriminate at- 
tention to all the objects of speculation and of action. Nothing 
can be more evident, than the necessity of limiting the field of 
our exertion, if we wish to benefit society by our labors. But 
it is perfectly consistent with the most intense application to 
our favorite pursuit, to cultivate that general acquaintance with 
letters and with the world which may be sufficient to enlarge 
the mind, and to preserve it from any danger of contracting the 
pedantry of a particular profession. In many cases, (as was 
already remarked,) the sciences reflect light on each other; 
and the general acquisitions, which we have made in other pur- 
suits, may furnish us with useful helps for the further prosecu- 
tion of our own. But even in those instances in which the case 
is otherwise, and in which these liberal accomplishments must 
be purchased by the sacrifice of a part of our professional emi- 
nence, the acquisition of them will amply repay any loss we 
may sustain. It ought not to be the leading object of any one, 
to become an eminent metaphysician, mathematician, or poet, 
but to render himself happy as an individual, and an agreeable, 
a respectable, and a useful member of society. A man who 
loses his sight, improves the sensibility of his touch ; but who 
would consent, for such a recompense, to part with the pleasures 
which he receives from the eye ? 

Light thrown by the philosophy of mind upon the theory and 
practice of education. — It is almost unnecessary for me to re- 
mark, how much individuals would be assisted in the proper and 
liberal culture of the mind, if they were previously led to take 
a comprehensive survey of human nature in all its parts ; of its 
various faculties, and powers, and sources of enjoyment, and of 
the effects which are produced on these principles by particular 
situations. It is such a knowledge alone of the capacities of 
the mind, that can enable a person to judge of his own acquisi- 
tions, and to employ the most effectual means for supplying his 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

defects and removing his inconvenient habits. Without some 
degree of it, every man is in danger of contracting bad habits 
before he is aware, and of suffering some of his powers to go to 
decay, for want of proper exercise. 

If the business of early education were more thoroughly and 
more generally understood, it would be less necessary for indi- 
viduals, when they arrive at maturity, to form plans of improve- 
ment for themselves. But education never can be systemat- 
ically directed to its proper objects, till we have obtained, not 
only an accurate analysis of the general principles of our na- 
ture, and an account of the most important laws which regulate 
their operation ; but an explanation of the various modifications 
and combinations of these principles, which produce that diver- 
sity of talents, genius, and character, we observe among men. 
To instruct youth in the languages and in the sciences is com- 
paratively of little importance, if we are inattentive to the hab- 
its they acquire, and are not careful in giving to all their differ- 
ent faculties, and all their different principles of action, a proper 
degree of employment. Abstracting entirely from the culture 
of their moral powers, how extensive and difficult is the busi- 
ness of conducting their intellectual improvement ! To watch 
over the associations which they form in their tender years ; to 
give them early habits of mental activity; to rouse their curi- 
osity, and to direct it to proper objects ; to exercise their inge- 
nuity and invention ; to cultivate in their minds a turn for 
speculation, and at the same time preserve their attention alive 
to the objects around them; to awaken their sensibilities to the 
beauties of nature, and to inspire them with a relish for intel- 
lectual enjoyment ; — these form but a part of the business of 
education, and yet the execution even of this part requires an 
acquaintance with the general principles of our nature, which 
seldom falls to the share of those to whom the instruction of 
youth is commonly intrusted. 

Nor will such a theoretical knowledge of the human mind as 
I have now described, be always sufficient in practice. An un- 
common degree of sagacity is frequently requisite, in order to 
accommodate general rules to particular tempers and charac- 
2* 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

ters. In whatever way we choose to account for it, whether by 
original organization or by the operation of moral causes in very 
early infancy, no fact can be more undeniable, than that there 
are important differences discernible in the minds of children, 
previous to that period at which, in general, their intellectual 
education commences. There is, too, a certain hereditary char- 
acter (whether resulting from physical constitution, or caught 
from imitation and the influence of situation) which appears re- 
markably in particular families. One race, for a succession of 
generations, is distinguished by a genius for the abstract sci- 
ences, while it is deficient in vivacity, in imagination, and in 
taste ; another is no less distinguished for wit, and gaiety, and 
fancy ; while it appears incapable of patient attention or of pro- 
found research. The system of education which is proper to 
be adopted in particular cases, ought undoubtedly to have some 
reference to these circumstances, and to be calculated, as much 
as possible, to develop and to cherish those intellectual and ac- 
tive principles in which a natural deficiency is most to be ap- 
prehended. Montesquieu, and other speculative politicians, 
have insisted much on the reference which education and laws 
should have to climate. I shall not take upon me to say how 
%r their conclusions on this subject are just ; but I am fully 
persuaded, that there is a foundation in philosophy and good 
sense for accommodating, at a very early period of life, the edu- 
cation of individuals to those particular turns of mind to which, 
from hereditary propensities, or from moral situation, they may 
be presumed to have a natural tendency. 

There are few subjects more hackneyed than that of educa- 
tion ; and yet there is none, upon which the opinions of the 
world are still more divided. Nor is this surprising ; for most 
of those who have speculated concerning it, have confined their 
attention chiefly to incidental questions about the comparative 
advantage of public or private instruction, or the utility of par- 
ticular languages or sciences ; without attempting a previous 
examination of those faculties and principles of the mind, which 
it is the great object of education to improve. Many excellent 
detached observations, indeed, both on the intellectual and moral 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

powers, are to be collected from the writings of ancient and 
modern authors ; but I do not know, that, in any language, an 
attempt has been made to analyze and illustrate the principles 
of human nature, in order to lay a philosophical foundation for 
their proper culture. 

The usefulness of systematic and thorough education defended. 
— I have even heard some very ingenious and intelligent men 
dispute the propriety of so systematical a plan of instruction. 
The most successful and splendid exertions, both in the sciences 
and arts, (it has been frequently remarked,) have been made 
by individuals, in whose minds the seeds of genius were allowed 
to shoot up Avild and free ; while, from the most careful and 
skilful tuition, seldom any thing results above mediocrity. I 
shall not, at present, enter into any discussions with respect to 
the certainty of the fact on which this opinion is founded. Sup- 
posing the fact to be completely established, it must still be re- 
membered, that originality of genius does not always imply vigor 
and comprehensiveness and liberality of mind ; and that it is 
desirable only in so far as it is compatible with these more val- 
uable qualities. I have already hinted, that there are some 
pursuits, in which, as they require the exertion only of a small 
number of our faculties, an individual, who has a natural turn 
for them, will be more likely to distinguish himself, by being 
suffered to follow his original bias, than if his attention were dis- 
tracted by a more liberal course of study. But wherever such 
men are to be found, they must be considered, on the most 
favorable supposition, as having sacrificed, to a certain degree, 
the perfection and the happiness of their nature, to the amuse- 
ment or instruction of others. It is, too, in times of general 
darkness and barbarism, that what is commonly called original- 
ity of genius most frequently appears : and surely the great aim 
.of an enlightened and benevolent philosophy is, not to rear a 
small number of individuals, who may be regarded as prodigies 
in an ignorant and admiring age, but to diffuse, as widely as 
possible, that degree of cultivation which may enable the bulk 
of a people to possess all the intellectual and moral improve- 
ment of which their nature is susceptible. " Original genius," 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

(says Voltaire) " occurs but seldom in a nation where the liter- 
ary taste is formed. The number of cultivated minds which 
there abound, like the trees in a thick and flourishing forest, 
prevent any single individual from rearing his head far above 
the rest. Where trade is in few hands, we meet with a small 
number of overgrown fortunes in the midst of a general pov- 
erty: in proportion as it extends, opulence becomes general, 
and great fortunes rare. It is precisely because there is, at 
present, much light and much cultivation in France, that we 
are led to complain of the want of superior genius." 

How far education conduces to happiness. — To what purpose, 
indeed, it may be said, is all this labor ? Is not the impor- 
tance of every thing to man to be ultimately estimated by its 
tendency to promote his happiness ? And is not our daily ex- 
perience sufficient to convince us, that this is, in general, by no 
means proportioned to the culture which his nature has re- 
ceived ? Nay, is there not some ground for suspecting, that the 
lower orders of men enjoy, on the whole, a more enviable con • 
dition, than their more enlightened and refined superiors ? 

The truth, I apprehend, is, that happiness, in so far as it 
arises from the mind itself, will be always proportioned to the 
degree of perfection which its powers have attained ; but that, 
in cultivating these powers with a view to this most important 
of all objects, it is essentially necessary that such a degree of 
attention be bestowed on all of them, as may preserve them 
in that state of relative strength, which appears to be agree- 
able to the intentions of nature. In consequence of an ex- 
clusive attention to the culture of the imagination, the taste, the 
reasoning faculty, or any of the active principles, it is possible 
that the pleasures of human life may be diminished, or its pains 
increased; but the inconveniences ivhich are experienced in such 
cases are not to be ascribed to education, but to a partial and in- 
judicious education. In such cases, it is possible that the poet, 
the metaphysician, or the man of taste and refinement, may ap- 
pear to disadvantage when compared with the vulgar ; for such 
is the benevolent appointment of Providence with respect to the 
lower orders, that, although not one principle of their nature be 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

completely unfolded, the whole of these principles preserve 
among themselves that balance which is favorable to the tran- 
quillity of their minds, and to a prudent and steady conduct in 
the limited sphere which is assigned to them, far more com- 
pletely than those of their superiors, whose education has been 
conducted on an erroneous or imperfect system : but all this, 
far from weakening the force of the foregoing observations, only 
serves to demonstrate how impossible it always will be, to form 
a rational plan for the improvement of the mind without an ac- 
curate and comprehensive knowledge of the principles of the 
human constitution. 

That the memory, the imagination, or the reasoning faculty 
are to be instantly strengthened in consequence of our specula- 
tions concerning their nature, it would be absurd to suppose ; 
but it is surely far from being unreasonable to think, that an 
acquaintance with the laws which regulate these powers may 
suggest some useful rules for their gradual cultivation, for rem- 
edying their defects in the case of individuals, and even for ex- 
tending those limits which nature seems, at first view, to have 
assigned them. 

To how great a degree of perfection the intellectual and moral 
nature of man is capable of being raised by cultivation, it is 
difficult to conceive. The effects of early, continued, and sys- 
tematical education in the case of those children who are trained, 
for the sake of gain, to feats of strength and agility, justify, per- 
haps, the most sanguine views which it is possible for a phi- 
losopher to form with respect to the improvement of the 
species. 

The Philosophy of Mind enables us to control early impressions 
and associations. — I now proceed to consider, how far the phi- 
losophy of mind may be useful in accomplishing the second ob- 
ject of education ; by assisting us in the management of early 
impressions and associations. 

By far the greater part of the opinions on which we act in 
life, are not the result of our own investigations ; but are adopted 
implicitly, in infancy and youth, upon the authority of others. 
Even the great principles of morality, although implanted in 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

every heart, are commonly aided and cherished, at least to a 
certain degree, by the care of our instructors. All this is un- 
doubtedly agreeable to the intentions of nature; and, indeed, 
were the case otherwise, society could not subsist ; for nothing 
can be more evident, than that the bulk of mankind, condemned 
as they are to laborious occupations, which are incompatible 
with intellectual improvement, are perfectly incapable of form- 
ing their opinions on some of the most important subjects that 
can employ the human mind. It is evident, at the same time, 
that as no system of education is perfect, a variety of prejudices 
must, in this way, take an early hold of our belief; so as to ac- 
quire over it an influence not inferior to that of the most incon- 
trovertible truths. When a child hears either a speculative 
absurdity, or an erroneous principle of action, recommended and 
enforced daily, by the same voice which first conveyed to it 
those simple and sublime lessons of morality and religion which 
are congenial to its nature, is it to be wondered at, that, in 
future life, it should find it so difficult to eradicate prejudices 
which have twined their roots with all the essential principles 
of the human frame ? — If such, however, be the obvious inten- 
tions of nature, with respect to those orders of men who are 
employed in bodily labor, it is equally clear, that she meant to 
impose it as a double obligation on those who receive the advan- 
tages of a liberal education, to examine, with the most scrupu- 
lous care, the foundation of all those received opinions which 
have any connection with morality, or with human happiness. 
If the multitude must be led, it is of consequence, surely, that 
it should be led by enlightened conductors ; by men who are 
able to distinguish truth from error, and to draw the line be- 
tween those prejudices which are innocent or salutary, (if 
indeed there are any prejudices which are really salutary,) and 
those which are hostile to the interests of virtue and of man- 
kind. 

Necessity of unlearning early errors. — In such a state of 
society as that in which we live, the prejudices of a moral; a 
political, and a religious nature, which we imbibe in early life, 
are so various, and at the same time so intimately blended with 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

the belief we entertain of the most sacred and important truths, 
that a great part of the life of a philosopher must necessarily be 
[levoted, not so much to the acquisition of new knowledge, as to 
unlearn the errors to which lie had been taught to give an im- 
plicit assent before the dawn of reason and reflection. And 
unless he submit in this manner to bring all his opinions to the 
test of a severe examination, his ingenuity and his learning, 
instead of enlightening the world, will only enable him to give 
an additional currency, and an additional authority, to estab- 
lished errors. To attempt such a struggle against early preju- 
dices is, indeed, the professed aim of all philosophers ; but how 
few are to be found who have force of mind sufficient for accom- 
plishing their object ; and who, in freeing themselves from one 
set of errors, do not allow themselves to be carried away with 
another ? To succeed in it completely, Lord Bacon seems to 
have thought, (in one of the most remarkable passages of his 
writings,) to be more than can well be expected from human 
3*ailty. 

Philosophy guards us against general skepticism. — Nor is it 
merely in order to free the mind from the influence of error, 
that it is useful to examine the foundation of established opin- 
ions. It is such an examination alone, that, in an inquisitive 
age like the present, can secure a philosopher from the danger 
of unlimited skepticism. To this extreme, indeed, the com- 
plexion of the times is more likely to give him a tendency, than 
to implicit credulity. In the former ages of ignorance and 
superstition, the intimate association which had been formed, in 
the prevailing systems of education, between truth and error, had 
given to the latter an ascendant over the minds of men, which 
it could never have acquired, if divested of such an alliance. 
The case has, of late years, been most remarkably reversed ; 
the common sense of mankind, in consequence of the growth of 
a more liberal spirit of inquiry, has revolted against many of 
those absurdities, which had so long held human reason in cap* 
tivity ; and it was, perhaps, more than could reasonably have 
been expected, that, in the first moments of their emancipation, 
philosophers should have stopped short at the precise boundary, 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

which cooler reflection, and more moderate views, would have 
prescribed. The fact is, that they have passed far beyond it ; 
and that, in their zeal to destroy prejudices, they have attempted 
to tear up by the roots many of the best and happiest and most 
essential principles of our nature. Having remarked the pow- 
erful influence of education over the mind, they have concluded, 
that man is wholly a factitious being ; not recollecting, that this 
very susceptibility of education presupposes certain original 
principles, which are common to the whole species ; and that, 
as error can only take a permanent hold upon a candid mind 
by being grafted on truths, which it is unwilling or unable to 
eradicate, even the influence, which false and absurd opinions 
occasionally acquire over the belief, instead of being an argu- 
ment for universal skepticism, is the most decisive argument 
against it ; inasmuch as it shows, that there are some truths so 
incorporated and identified with our nature, that they can recon- 
cile us even to the absurdities and contradictions with which we 
suppose them to be inseparably connected. The skeptical phi- 
losophers, for example, of the present age, have frequently at- 
tempted to hold up to ridicule those contemptible and puerile 
superstitions, which have disgraced the creeds of some of the 
most enlightened nations, and which have not only commanded 
the assent, but the reverence, of men of the most accomplished 
understandings. But these histories of human imbecility are, 
in truth, the strongest testimonies which can be produced, to 
prove how wonderful is the influence of the fundamental prin- 
ciples of morality over the belief; when they are able to sanc- 
tify, in the apprehensions of mankind, every extravagant opin- 
ion, and every unmeaning ceremony, which early education has 
taught us to associate with them. 

Feeble and unphilosophical minds exposed both to credulity and 
skepticism. — That implicit credulity is a mark of a feeble mind, 
will not be disputed ; but it may not perhaps be as generally 
acknowledged, that the case is the same with unlimited skepti- 
cism : on the contrary, we are sometimes apt to ascribe this dis- 
position to a more than ordinary vigor of intellect. Such a 
prejudice was by no means unnatural at that period in the his- 



INTRODUCTION. 25 

tory of modern Europe, when reason first began to throw off 
the yoke of authority ; and when it unquestionably required a 
superiority of understanding, as well as of intrepidity, for an in- 
dividual to resist the contagion of prevailing superstition. But 
in the present age, in which the tendency of fashionable opin- 
ions is directly opposite to those of the vulgar, the philosophi- 
cal creed, or the philosophical skepticism of by far the greater 
number of those who value themselves on an emancipation from 
popular errors, arises from the very same weakness with the 
credulity of the multitude : nor is it going too far to say, with 
Rousseau, that, " He who, in the end of the eighteenth century, 
has brought himself to abandon all his early principles without 
discrimination, would probably have been a bigot in the days 
of the League." In the midst of these contrary impulses, of 
fashionable and vulgar prejudices, he alone evinces the supe- 
riority and the strength of his mind, who is able to disentangle 
truth from error ; and to oppose the clear conclusions of his 
own unbiassed faculties, to the united clamors of superstition 
and of false philosophy. Such are the men, whom nature 
marks out to be the lights of the world, to fix the wavering 
opinions of the multitude, and to impress their own characters 
on that of their age. 

For securing the mind completely from the weakness I have 
now been describing, and enabling it to maintain a steady course 
of inquiry between implicit credulity and unlimited skepticism, 
the most important of all qualities is a sincere and devoted at- 
tachment to truth ; which seldom fails to be accompanied with 
a manly confidence in the clear conclusions of human reason. 
It is such a confidence, united (as it generally is) with personal 
intrepidity, which forms what the French writers call force of 
character ; one of the rarest endowments, it must be confessed, 
of our species ; but which, of all endowments, is the most essen- 
tial for rendering a philosopher happy in himself, and a bless- 
ing to mankind. 

Enlightened education in youth the best preservative against 
skepticism. — From the observations which have been made, it 
sufficiently appears, that, in order to secure the mind, on the one 

S 



26 INTRODUCTION. 

hand, from the influence of prejudice, and on the other, from a 
tendency to unlimited skepticism, it is necessary that it should 
be able to distinguish the original and universal principles and 
laws of human nature from the adventitious effect of local situ- 
ation. But if, in the case of an individual who has received an 
imperfect or erroneous education, such a knowledge puts it in 
his power to correct, to a certain degree, his own bad habits, 
and to surmount his own speculative errors, it enables him to 
be useful, in a much higher degree, to those whose education he 
has an opportunity of superintending from early infancy. Such, 
and so permanent, is the effect of first impressions on the char- 
acter, that, although a philosopher may succeed, by persever- 
ance, in freeing his reason from the prejudices with which it 
was entangled, they will still retain some hold of his imagina- 
tion and his affections ; and, therefore, however enlightened his 
understanding may be in his hours of speculation, his philo- 
sophical opinions will frequently lose their influence over his 
mind, in those very situations in which their practical assistance 
is most required ; when his temper is soured by misfortune, or 
when he engages in the pursuits of life, and exposes himself to 
the contagion of popular • errors. His opinions are supported 
merely by speculative arguments ; and, instead of being con- 
nected with any of the active principles of his nature, are coun- 
teracted and thwarted by some of the most powerful of them. 
How different would the case be, if education were conducted 
from the beginning with attention and judgment ! Were the 
same pains taken to impress truth on the mind in early infancy, 
that are often taken to inculcate error, the great principles of our 
conduct would not only be juster than they are, but, in conse- 
quence of the aid which they would receive from the imagina- 
tion and the heart, trained to conspire with them in the same 
direction, they would render us happier in ourselves, and would 
influence our practice more powerfully and more habitually. 
There is surely nothing in error which is more congenial to the 
mind than truth. On the contrary, when exhibited separately 
and alone to the understanding, it shocks our reason and pro- 
vokes our ridicule ; and it is only (as I had occasion already to 



INTRODUCTION*. 27 

remark) by an alliance with truths which we find it difficult to 
renounce, that it can obtain our assent or command our rever- 
ence. What advantages, then, might be derived from a proper 
attention to early impressions and associations, in giving sup- 
port to those principles which are connected with human hap- 
piness ? The long reign of error in the world, and the influence 
it maintains, even in an age of liberal inquiry, far from being 
favorable to the supposition, that human reason is destined to 
be forever the sport of prejudice and absurdity, demonstrates 
the tendency which there is to permanence in established opin- 
ions and in established institutions, and promises an eternal 
stability to true philosophy, when it shall once have acquired 
the ascendant, and when proper means shall be employed to 
support it by a more perfect system of education. 

Our daily experience may convince us, how susceptible the 
tender mind is of deep impressions, and what important and 
permanent effects are produced on the characters and the hap- 
piness of individuals, by the casual associations formed in child- 
hood among the various ideas, feelings, and affections with 
which they were habitually occupied. It is the business of ed- 
ucation not to counteract this constitution of nature, but to give 
it a proper direction ; and the miserable consequences to which 
it leads, when under an improper regulation, only show what an 
important instrument of human improvement it might be ren- 
dered in more skilful hands. If it be possible to interest the 
imagination and the heart in favor of error, it is, at least, no less 
possible to interest them in favor of truth. If it be possible to 
extinguish all the most generous and heroic feelings of our na- 
ture, by teaching us to connect the idea of them with those of 
guilt and impiety, it is surely equally possible to cherish and 
strengthen them, by establishing the natural alliance between 
our duty and our happiness. If it be possible for the influence 
of fashion to veil the native deformity of vice, and to give to 
low and criminal indulgences the appearance of spirit, of ele- 
gance, and of gaiety, can we doubt of the possibility of connect- 
ing, in the tender mind, these pleasing associations with pur- 
suits that are truly worthy and honorable ? 



28 INTRODUCTION. 

A complicated creed exposes one, by reaction, to general sheptu 
cism. — I shall conclude this subject with remarking, that, al- 
though in all moral and religious systems there is a great mix- 
ture of important truth, and although it is in consequence of this 
alliance that errors and absurdities are enabled to preserve their 
hold of the belief, yet it is commonly found, that, in proportion 
as an established creed is complicated in its dogmas and in its 
ceremonies, and in proportion to the number of accessory ideas 
which it has grafted upon the truth, the more difficult is it for 
those who have adopted it in childhood to emancipate them- 
selves completely from its influence; and in those cases in 
which they at last succeed, the greater is their danger of aban- 
doning, along with their errors, all the truths which they had 
been taught to connect with them. The Roman Catholic sys- 
tem is shaken off with much greater difficulty than those which 
are taught in the Reformed churches; but when it loses its 
hold on the mind, it much more frequently prepares the way 
for unlimited skepticism. The cause of this I may, perhaps, 
have an opportunity of pointing out, in treating of the Associa- 
tion of Ideas.* 



* [Sir William Hamilton places the usefulness of the Philosophy of 
Mind, considered as a means of education, on different, and, as we think, 
better chosen, grounds. 

"On this ground," he says, "we rest the preeminent utility of meta- 
physical speculations. That they comprehend all the sublimest objects of 
our theoretical and moral interest ; — that every natural conclusion con- 
cerning God, the soul, the present worth, and the future destiny of man, 
is exclusively metaphysical, will be at once admitted. But we do not 
found the importance on the paramount dignity of the pursuit. It is as 
the best gymnastic of the mind, — as a means, principally and almost exclu- 
sively conducive to the highest education of our noblest powers, that we 
would vindicate to these speculations the necessity which has too fre- 
quently been denied them. By no other intellectual application, (and, 
least of all, by physical pursuits,) is the soul thus reflected on itself, and its 
faculties concentred in such independent, vigorous, unwonted, and con- 
tinuous energy ; — by none, therefore, are its best capacities so variously 
and intensely evolved. Where there is the most life, there is the victory." 
— Discussions on Philosophy, etc. 2d ed. p. 41. 



INTRODUCTION. 29 

"Plato has profoundly defined man 'the hunter of truth;' for in this 
chase, as in others, the pursuit is all in all, the success comparatively noth- 
ing. We exist only as we energize ; pleasure is the reflex of unimpaired 
energy; energy is the mean by which our faculties are developed; and a 
higher energy, the end which their development proposes. In action is 
thus contained the existence, happiness, improvement, and perfection of 
our being; and knowledge is only precious, as it may afford a stimulus to 
the exercise of our powers, and the condition of their more complete ac- 
tivity. Speculative truth is, therefore, subordinate to speculation itself; and its 
value is directly measured by the quantity of energy which it occasions, — 
immediately in its discovery, mediately through its consequences. Life 
to Endymion was not preferable to death ; aloof from practice, a waking 
error is better than a sleeping truth. — Neither,' in point of fact, is there 
found any proportion between the possession of truths, and the development 
of the mind in which they are deposited. Every learner in science is now 
familiar with more truths than Aristotle or Plato ever dreamt of know- 
ing ; yet, compared Avith the Stagirite or the Athenian, how few, even of 
our masters of modern science, rank higher than intellectual barbarians." 
—76. p. 40. 

" All profitable study is a silent disputation — an intellectual gymnas- 
tic; and the most improving books are precisely those which most excite 
the reader — to understand the author, to supply what he has omitted, 
and to canvass his facts and reasonings. To read passively, to learn — 
is, in. reality, not to learn at all. In study, implicit faith, belief upon au- 
thority, is worse even than, for a time, erroneous speculation. To read 
profitably, we should read the authors, not most in unison with, but most 
adverse to, our opinions; for whatever may be the case in the cure of 
bodies, enantiopathy , and not homozopathy , \s the true medicine of minds. 
Accordingly, such sciences and such authors, as present only unques- 
tionable truths, [pure mathematics, for instance, when made a chief object 
of pursuit,] determining a minimum of self-activity in the student, are, in 
a rational education, subjectively, naught. Those [such] sciences and 
authors, on the contrary, as constrain the student to independent thought, 
[metaphysics, for example,] arc, whatever be their objective certainty, sub- 
jectuely, educationally, best."] — lb. p. 773. 



PHILOSOPHY 



OP 



THE HUMAN MIND 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

I. Of the theories which have been formed by Philosophers, to ex- 
plain the manner in which the Mind perceives external Objects. — 
Among the various phenomena which the human mind presents 
to our view, there is none more calculated to excite our curiosity 
and our wonder, than the communication which is carried on 
between the sentient, thinking, and active principle within us, 
and the material objects with which we are surrounded. How 
little soever the bulk of mankind may be disposed to attend to 
such inquiries, there is scarcely a person to be found, who has 
not occasionally turned his thoughts to that mysterious influence, 
which the will possesses over the members of the body ; and to 
those powers of perception which seems to inform us, by a sort 
of inspiration, of the various changes which take place in the 
external universe. Of those who receive the advantages of a 
liberal education, there are perhaps few, who pass the period of 
childhood, without feeling their curiosity excited by this incom- 
prehensible communication between mind and matter. For my 
own part, at least, I cannot recollect the date of my earliest 
speculations on the subject. 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 31 

Which sense is alone considered in most theories of percep- 
tion. — In considering the phenomena of perception, it is natural 
to suppose that the attention of philosophers would be directed, 
in the first instance, to the sense of seeing. The variety of infor- 
mation and of enjoyment we receive by it ; the rapidity with 
which this information and enjoyment are conveyed to us ; and 
above all, the intercourse it enables us to maintain with the 
more distant part of the universe, cannot fail to give it, even in 
the apprehension of the most careless observer, a preeminence 
over all our other perceptive faculties. Hence it is, that the 
various theories, which have been formed to explain the opera- 
tions of our senses, have a more immediate reference to that of 
seeing ; and that the greater part of the metaphysical language, 
concerning perception in general, appears evidently, from its 
etymology, to have been suggested by the phenomena of vision. 
Even when applied to this sense, indeed, it can at most amuse 
the fancy, without conveying any precise knowledge ; but when 
applied to the other senses, it is altogether absurd and unintel- 
ligible. 

Objections to all the hypotheses that have been framed to ex- 
plain the process of perception. — It would be tedious and 
useless, to consider particularly the different hypotheses which 
have been advanced upon this subject. To all of them, I appre- 
hend, the two following remarks will befound applicable : First, 
that, in the formation of them, their authors have been influ- 
enced by some general maxims of philosophizing, borrowed 
from physics ; and secondly, that they have been influenced by 
an indistinct, but deep-rooted conviction of the immateriality of 
the soul ; which, although not precise enough to point out to 
them the absurdity of attempting to illustrate its operations by 
the analogy of matter, was yet sufficiently strong to induce 
them to keep the absurdity of their theories as far as possible 
out of view, by allusions to those physical facts in which the 
distinctive properties of matter are the least grossly and palpa- 
bly exposed to our observation. To the former of these cir- 
cumstances is to be ascribed the general principle, upon which 
all the known theories of perception proceed ; that, in order to 



32 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

explain the intercourse between the mind and distant objects, it 
is necessary to suppose the existence of something intermediate, 
by which its perceptions are produced ; to the latter, the various 
metaphorical expressions of ideas, species, forms, shadows, 'phan- 
tasms, images ; which, while they amused the fancy with some 
remote analogies to the objects of our senses, did not directly 
revolt our reason, by presenting to us any of the tangible quali- 
ties of body. 

The doctrine of mediate perception, or of perception through 
the intervention of images or ideas. — It was the doctrine of 
Aristotle, (says Dr. Reid,) that as our senses cannot receive 
external material objects themselves, they receive their species ; 
■that is, their images or forms, without the matter; as wax re- 
ceives the form of the seal, without any of the matter of it. 
These images or forms, impressed upon the senses, are called 
sensible species ; and are the objects only of the sensitive part 
of the mind : but by various internal powers, they are retained, 
refined, and spiritualized, so as to become objects of memory 
and imagination ; and, at last, of pure intellection. When they 
are objects of memory and of imagination, they get the name of 
phantasms. When, by further refinement, and being stripped 
of their peculiarities, they become objects of science, they are 
called intelligible species ; so that every immediate object, wheth- 
er of sense, of memory, of imagination, or of reasoning, must 
be some phantasm, or species, in the mind itself. 

The Platonists, too, although they denied the great doctrine 
of the Peripatetics, that all the objects of human understanding 
enter at first by the senses ; and maintained, that there exist 
eternal and immutable ideas, which were prior to the objects of 
sense, and about which all science was employed ; yet appear 
to have agreed with them in their notions concerning the mode 
in which external objects are perceived. This Dr. Reid infers, 
partly from the silence of Aristotle about any difference between 
himself and his master upon this point ; and partly from a pas- 
sage in the seventh book of Plato's Republic, in which he com- 
pares the process of the mind in perception to that of a person 
in a cave, who sees not external objects themselves, but only 
their shadows. 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 33 

"Two thousand years after Plato," (continues Dr. Reid,) 
" Mr. Locke, who studied the operations of the human mind so 
much, and with so great success, represents our manner of per- 
ceiving external objects by a similitude very much resembling 
that of the cave. ' Methinks,' says he, * the understanding is 
not much unlike a closet, wholly shut from light, with only some 
little opening left, to let in external visible resemblances or ideas 
of things without. Would the pictures coming into such a dark 
room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon oc- 
casion, it would very much resemble the understanding of a 
man, in reference to all objects of sight, and the ideas of 
them.' 

" Plato's subterranean cave, and Mr. Locke's dark closet, 
may be applied with ease to all the systems of perceptions that 
have been invented : for they all suppose, that we perceive not 
external objects immediately ; and that the immediate objects of 
perception are only certain shadows of the external objects. 
Those shadows, or images, which we immediately perceive, were 
by the ancients called species, forms, phantasms. Since the time 
of Des Cartes, they have commonly been called ideas ; and by 
Mr. Hume, impressions. But all philosophers, from Plato to 
Mr. Hume, agree in this, that we do not perceive external ob- 
jects immediately ; and that the immediate object of perception 
must be some image present to the mind." On the whole, Dr. 
Reid remarks, " that in their sentiments concerning perception, 
there appears an uniformity which rarely occurs upon subjects 
of so abstruse a nature." 

Objections to this doctrine of mediate perception. — The very 
short and imperfect view we have now taken of the common 
theories of perception, is almost sufficient, without any commen- 
tary, to establish the truth of the two general observations for- 
merly made ; for they all evidently proceed on a supposition, 
suggested by the phenomena of physics, (1.) that there must of 
necessity exist some medium of communication between the ob- 
jects of perception and the percipient mind ; and they all indi- 
cate a secret conviction in their authors, (2.) of the essential dis- 
tinction between mind and matter; which, although not ren- 



34 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

dered, by reflection, sufficiently precise and satisfactory to show 
them the absurdity of attempting to explain the mode of their 
communication ; had yet such a degree of influence on their 
speculations, as to induce them to exhibit their supposed medium 
under as mysterious and ambiguous a form as possible, in order 
that it might remain doubtful to which of the two predicaments, 
of body or mind, they meant that it should be referred. By 
refining away the grosser qualities of matter, and by allusions 
to some of the most aerial and magical appearances it assumes, 
they endeavored, as it were, to spiritualize the nature of their 
medium ; while at the same time, all their language concerning 
it implied such a reference to matter, as was necessary for fur- 
nishing a plausible foundation for applying to it the received 
maxims of natural philosophy. 

Another observation, too, which was formerly hinted at, is 
confirmed by the same historical review ; that, in the order of 
inquiry, the phenomena of vision had first engaged the attention 
of philosophers, and had suggested to them the greater part of 
their language with respect to perception in general ; and that, 
in consequence of this circumstance, the common modes of ex- 
pression on the subject, unphilosophical and fanciful at best, 
even when applied to the sense of seeing, are, in the case of all 
the other senses, obviously unintelligible and self-contradictory. 
As to objects of sight, says Dr. Reid, I understand what is 
meant by an image of their figure in the brain ; but how shall 
we conceive an image of their color, where there is absolute 
darkness ? And, as to all other objects of sense, except figure 
and color, I am unable to conceive what is meant by an image 
of them. Let any man say, what he means by an image of 
heat and cold, an image of hardness or softness, an image of 
sound, or smell, or taste. The word image, when applied to these 
objects of sense, has absolutely no meaning. This palpable im- 
perfection in the ideal theory has plainly taken rise from the 
natural order in which the phenomena of perception present 
themselves to the curiosity. 

That in the case of the perception of distant objects, we are 
naturally inclined to suspect, either something to be emitted from 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 85 

the object to the organ of sense, or some medium to intervene be* 
tween the object ami organ, by means of which the former may 
c6mmunicate an impulse to the latter, appears from the com- 
mon modes of expression on the subject, which are to be found 
in all languages. In our own, for example, we frequently hear 
the vulgar speak of light striking the eye ; not in consequence 
of any philosophical theory they have been taught, but of their 
own crude and undirected speculations. Perhaps there are 
few men among those who have attended at all to the history 
of their own thoughts, who will not recollect the influence of 
these ideas, at a period of life long prior to the date of their 
philosophical studies. Nothing, indeed, can be conceived more 
simple and natural than their origin. When an object is 
placed in a certain situation with respect to a particular organ 
of the body, a perception arises in the mind ; when the object 
is removed, the perception ceases. Hence we are led to appre- 
hend some connection between the object and the perception ; and 
as we are accustomed to believe, that matter produces its effects 
by impulse, we conclude that there must be some material me- 
dium intervening between the object and organ, by means of 
which the impulse is communicated from the one to the other. 
— That" this is really the case, I do not mean to dispute. — I 
think, however, it is evident, that the existence of such a me- 
dium does not in any case appear a priori : and yet the natural 
prejudices of men have given rise to an universal belief of it, 
long before they were able to produce any good arguments in 
support of their opinion. 

Nor is it only to account for the connection between the ob- 
ject and the organ of sense, that philosophers have had recourse 
to the theory of impulse. They have imagined that the impres- 
sion on the organ of sense is communicated to the mind, in a sim- 
ilar manner. As one body produces a change in the state of 
another by impulse, so it has been supposed, that the external 
object produces perception, (which is a change in the state of 
*he mind,) first, by some material impression made on the organ 
of sense ; and, secondly, by some material impression commu- 
nicated from the organ to the mind along the nerves and brain. 



36 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

These suppositions, indeed, as I had occasion already to hint, 
were, in the ancient theories of perception, rather implied than 
expressed ; but by modern philosophers, they have been stated 
in the form of explicit propositions. " As to the manner," says 
Mr. Locke, " in which bodies produce ideas in us, it is mani- 
festly by impulse, the only way which we can conceive bodies 
operate in." Dr. Clark has expressed the same idea still more 
confidently, in the following passage of one of his letters to 
Leibnitz. " Without being present to the images of the things 
perceived, the soul could not possibly perceive* them. A living 
substance can only there perceive, where it is present. Noth- 
ing can any more act, or be acted upon, where it is not present, 
than it can when it is not." "How body acts upon mind, or 
mind upon body," (says Dr. Porterfield) " I know not ; but this 
I am very certain of, that nothing can act, or be acted upon, 
where it is not ; and therefore our mind can never perceive any 
thing but its own proper modifications, and the various states of 
the sensorium, to which it is present : so that it is not the ex- 
ternal sun and moon, which are in the heavens, which our mind 
perceives, but only their image or representation, impressed 
upon the sensorium. How the soul of a seeing man sees these 
images, or how it receives those ideas, from such agitations in 
the sensorium, I know not ; but I am sure it can never perceive 
the external bodies themselves, to which it is not present." 

Theories of perception by Monboddo and Malebranche. — The 
same train of thinking, which had led these philosophers to sup- 
pose that external objects are perceived by means of species 
proceeding from the object to the mind, or by means of some 
material impression made on the mind by the brain, has sug- 
gested to a late writer a very different theory ; that the mind, 
when it perceives an external object, quits the body, and is 
present to the object of perception. " The mind," (says the 
learned author of Ancient Metaphysics,) " is not where the 
body is, when it perceives what is distant from the body, either 
in time or place, because nothing can act, but when, and where, 
it is. Now, the mind acts when it perceives. The mind, 
therefore, of every animal who has memory or imagination, acts, 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 37 

and by consequence exists, when and where the. body is not ; 
for it perceives objects distant from the body both in time and 
place." Indeed, if we take for granted, that in perception the 
mind acts upon the object, or the object upon the mind, and, at 
the same time, admit the truth of the maxim, that " nothing can 
act but where it is," we must, of necessity conclude, either that 
objects are perceived in a way similar to what is supposed in 
the ideal theory, or that, in every act of perception, the soul 
quits the body, and is present to the object perceived. And 
accordingly, this alternative is expressly stated by Malebranche ; 
who differs, however, from the writer last quoted, in the choice 
which he makes of his hypothesis ; and even rests his proof of 
its truth on the improbability of the other opinion. " I sup- 
pose," says he, " that every one will grant, that we perceive not 
external objects immediately, and of themselves. We see the 
sun, the stars, and an infinity of objects without us ; and it is 
not at all likely that, upon such occasions, the soul sallies out of 
the body in order to be present to the objects perceived. She 
sees them not therefore by themselves ; and the immediate ob- 
ject of the mind is not the thing perceived, but something which 
is intimately united to the soul ; and it is that which I call an 
idea : so that by the word idea, I understand nothing else here 
but that which is nearest to the mind when we perceive any ob- 
ject. It ought to be carefully observed, that, in order to the 
mind's perceiving any object, it is absolutely necessary that the 
ideas of that object be actually present to it. Of this it is not 
possible to doubt. The things which the soul perceives, are of 
two kinds. They are either in the soul, or they are without 
the soul. Those that are in the soul, are its own thoughts ; 
that is to say, all its different modifications. The soul has no 
need of ideas for perceiving these things. But with regard to 
things without the soul, we cannot perceive them but by means 
of ideas." 

All these theories appear to me to have taken their rise, first, 
from an inattention to the proper object of philosophy, and, sec- 
ondly,from an apprehension, that we understand the connection 
between impulse and moiion better than any other physical 

4 



38 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

fact. From the detail which I have given, it appears how ex- 
tensive an influence this prejudice has had on the inquiries both 
of natural philosophers and of metaphysicians. 

II. Of Dr. Reid's Speculations on the subject of Perception. — It 
was chiefly in consequence of the skeptical conclusions which 
Bishop Berkeley and Mr. Hume had deduced from the ancient 
theories of perception, that Dr. Reid was led to call them in 
question ; and he appears to me to have shown, in the most sat- 
isfactory manner, not only that they are perfectly hypothetical, 
but that the suppositions they involve are absurd and impossi- 
ble. His reasonings, on this part of our constitution, undoubt- 
edly form the most important accession which the philosophy 
of the human mind has received since the time of Mr. Locke. 

But although Dr. Reid has been at much pains to overturn 
the old ideal system, he has not ventured to substitute any hy- 
pothesis of his own in its place. And, indeed, he was too well 
acquainted with the limits prescribed to our philosophical inqui- 
ries, to think of indulging his curiosity in such unprofitable 
speculations. All, therefore, that he is to be understood as aim- 
ing at, in his inquiries, concerning our perceptive powers, is to 
give a precise statement of the fact, divested of all theoretical ex- 
pressions ; in order to prevent philosophers from imposing on 
themselves any longer, by words without meaning ; and to extort 
from them an acknowledgment, that, with respect to the process 
of nature in perception, they are no less ignorant than the 
vulgar. 

Useful effect of plain truth in reminding us of our ignorance, 
and reviving our natural feelings. — According to this view of 
Dr. Reid's reasonings on the subject of perception, the purpose 
to which they are subservient may appear to some to be of no 
very considerable importance ; but the truth is, that one of the 
most valuable effects of genuine philosophy, is to remind us of 
the limited powers of the human understanding ; and to revive 
those natural feelings of wonder and admiration, at the spectacle 
of the universe, which are apt to languish, in consequence of 
long familiarity. The most profound discoveries which are 
placed within the reach of our researches, lead to a confession 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 39 

of human ignorance ; for, while they flatter the pride of man, 
and increase his power, by enabling him to trace the simple and 
beautiful laws by which physical events are regulated, they call 
his attention, at the same time, to those general and ultimate 
facts which bound the narrow circle of his knowledge; and 
which, by evincing to him the operation of powers, whose nature 
must for ever remain unknown, serve to remind him of the in- 
sufficiency of his faculty to penetrate the secrets of the universe. 
Wherever we direct our inquiries ; whether to the anatomy and 
physiology of animals, to the growth of vegetables, to the chem- 
ical attractions and repulsions, or to the motions of the heavenly 
bodies ; we perpetually perceive the effects of powers which 
cannot belong to matter. To a certain length we are able to 
proceed ; but in every research, we meet with a line which no in- 
dustry nor ingenuity can pass. It is a line, too, which is marked 
with sufficient distinctness ; and which no man now thinks of 
passing, who has just views of the nature and object of philoso- 
phy. It forms the separation between that field which falls un- 
der the survey of the physical inquirer, and that unknown region 
of which, though it was necessary that we should be assured of 
its existence, in order to lay a foundation for the doctrines of 
natural theology, it hath not pleased the Author of the universe 
to reveal to us the wonders, in this infant state of our being. 
It was, in fact, chiefly by tracing out this line, that Lord Bacon 
did so much service to science. 

Beside this effect, which is common to all our philosophical 
pursuits, of impressing the mind with a sense of that mysterious 
agency, or efficiency, into which general laws must be resolved ; 
they have a tendency, in many cases, to counteract the influence 
of habit, in weakening those emotions of wonder and of curiosity, 
which the appearances of nature are so admirably fitted to ex- 
cite. For this purpose, it is necessary, either to lead the atten- 
tion to facts which are calculated to strike by their novelty, or 
to present familiar appearances in a new light : and such are 
the obvious effects of philosophical inquiries ; sometimes extend- 
ing our views to objects which are removed from vulgar obser- 
vation ; and sometimes correcting our first apprehensions with 



40 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

respect to ordinary events. The communication of motion by 
impulse, (as I already hinted,) is as unaccountable as any phe- 
nomenon we know ; and yet, most men are disposed to consider 
it as a fact which does not result from will, but from necessity. 
To such men, it may be useful to direct their attention to the 
universal law of gravitation ; which, although not more wonder- 
ful in itself than the common effect of impulse, is more fitted, 
by its novelty, to awaken their attention, and to excite their 
curiosity. 

Contrary effect of erroneous theories. — If such, however, be 
the effects of our philosophical pursuits when successfully con- 
ducted, it must be confessed that the tendency of imperfect or 
erroneous theories is widely different. By a specious solution 
of insuperable difficulties, they so dazzle and bewilder the un- 
derstanding, as, at once, to prevent us from advancing, with 
steadiness, towards the limit of human knowledge ; and from 
perceiving the existence of a region beyond it, into which phi- 
losophy is not permitted to enter. In such cases, it is the busi- 
ness of genuine science to unmask the imposture, and to point 
out clearly, both to the learned and to the vulgar, what reason 
can, and what she cannot, accomplish. This, I apprehend, has 
been done with respect to the history of our perceptions^ in the 
most satisfactory manner, by Dr. Reid. "When a person little 
accustomed to metaphysical speculation is told, that, in the case 
of volition, there are certain invisible fluids, propagated from the 
mind to the organ which is moved, and that, in the case of per- 
ception, the existence and qualities of the external object are 
made known to us by means of species, or phantasms, or images, 
which are present to the mind in the sensorium ; he is apt to 
conclude that the intercourse between mind and matter is much 
less mysterious than he had supposed ; and that, although these 
expressions may not convey to him any very distinct meaning, 
their import is perfectly understood by philosophers. It is 
now, I think, pretty generally acknowledged by physiologists, 
that the influence of the will over the body, is a mystery which 
has never yet been unfolded ; but singular as it may appear, 
Dr. Reid was the first person who had courage to lay completely 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 41 

aside all the common hypothetical language concerning percep- 
tion, and to exhibit the difficulty in all its magnitude, by a plain 
statement of the fact. 

Statement of Dr. Relays doctrine. — To what then, it may be 
asked, does this statement amount ? Merely to this ; that the 
mind is so formed, that certain impressions produced on our or- 
gans of sense by external objects, are followed by correspondent 
sensations ; and that these sensations, (which have no more re- 
semblance to the qualities of matter, than the words of a language 
have to the things they denote,) are followed by a perception of 
the existence and qualities of the bodies by which the impres- 
sions are made : that all the steps oi' this process are equally 
incomprehensible ; and that, for any thing we can prove to the 
contrary, the connection between the sensation and the percep- 
tion, as well as that between the impression and the sensation, 
may be both arbitrary ; that it is therefore by no means impos- 
sible, that our sensations may be merely the occasions on which 
the correspondent perceptions are excited ; and that, at any 
rate, the consideration of these sensations, which are attributes 
of mind, can throw no light on the manner in which we acquire 
our knowledge of the existence and qualities of body.* From 

* [The distinction between sensation and perception is the most original 
and important feature of Dr. Keid's philosophy. The following explana- 
tion of it is nearly in his own words, though it is formed by bringing 
together many sentences from different portions of his Inquiry and his 
Essays. 

The same mode of expression is used to denote sensation and perception; 
the things coalesce in our imagination, and are considered as one simple 
operation, for the ordinary purposes of life do not require them to be dis- 
tinguished. But the philosopher needs to distinguish them, and is able to 
analyze the operation compounded of them. Thus, — / feel a pain; I see 
a tree. The first of these propositions denotes a sensation, the last a per- 
ception. 

Sensation has no object distinct, from itself. When I am pained, I cannot 
say that the pain I feel is one thing, and my feeling it is another tiling. T hey 
are one and the same thing, and cannot be disjoined even in imagination. 
The sensation, moreover, ean have no existence but in a sentient mind ; 
pain, when it is not felt, has no existence. 

Perception, on the other hand, always has an object distinct from itself. 
4* 



42 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

this view of the subject, it follows, that it is the external objects 
themselves, and not any species or images of these objects, that 

Thus, / perceive a tree ; there is here an object which is perceived, and an 
act of the mind by which it is perceived ; and the two are not only distin- 
guishable, but are extremely unlike in their natures. And the tree exists, 
whether it is perceived or not. The tree, also, which is the object per- 
ceived, is made up of a trunk, branches, and leaves ; the act of the mind 
by which it is perceived has neither trunk, branches, nor leaves. 

Every perception is accompanied by a sensation, without which it could 
not exist. But every sensation has not a perception as its necessary con- 
comitant ; it may exist alone. When I smell a rose, there is in this opera- 
tion both sensation and perception. The agreeable odor I feel, consid- 
ered by itself, without relation to any external object, is merely a sensation. 
This sensation may be felt, when no rose is perceived ; as when I enter a 
room strongly impregnated with otto of rose, though the flower — the rose 
itself — is not there. This sensation can be nothing else than it is felt to 
be ; its very essence consists in being felt, and when it is not felt, it is 
not. 

Now let us attend to the perception which we have in smelling a rose. 
Perception always has an external object ; and the object of my percep- 
tion, in this case, is that quality in the rose which I discern by or through 
the sense of smell. This quality in the rose, which produces an effect on 
my olfactory nerves, is the object of perception ; and the act by which I 
recognize it, and believe it to exist, is perception. 

Sir W. Hamilton even lays it down as a general rule, that, above a cer- 
tain point, the stronger the Sensation, the weaker the Perception ; and the dis- 
tincter the Perception, the less obtrusive the Sensation. In c rher words, Per- 
ception and Sensation are always found in an inverse ratio to each other. Thus, 
if I strike my hand lightly against the corner of the table, the sensation 
which is produced is slight, and I have a very distinct perception of the 
hardness and angularity of the table which produce the sensation. But if 
I strike my hand violently against it, the sensation produced is acute and 
painful, and, my attention being absorbed by it, I hardly perceive the shape 
of the object which has done me the injury. So, again, if I look at the 
unclouded sun at mid-day, the sensation produced is so vivid and overpow- 
ering, that I have hardly any perception either of its form or color. But 
if I look at the same object towards evening, when it is partially obscured 
by clouds, the sensation is light and agreeable, and I have a very distinct 
perception of the sun's circular form and red or golden color. 

But observe, the sensation which is felt, and the quality which is per- 
ceived, are both called by the same name. In the instance first given, the 
smell of a rose is the name given to both. Hence has arisen the curious 
question, whether the smell be in the rose, or in the mind that feels 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 43 

the mind perceives : and that, although by the constitution of our 
nature, certain sensations are rendered the constant antecedents 
of our perceptions, yet it is just as difficult to explain how our 
perceptions are obtained by their means, as it would be upon 
the supposition that the mind were all at once inspired with 
them, without any concomitant sensations whatever.* 

These remarks are general, and apply to all our various per- 
ceptions ; and they evidently strike at the root of all the com- 
mon theories upon the subject. The* laws, however, which reg- 



it. The answer is, that there are two different things signified by the 
smell of a rose; one, the sensation, is in the mind, and cannot exist out of 
the mind ; the other, the quality perceived, is in the rose. These two 
things are called by the same name, not on account of their similitude, for 
they do not at all resemble each other, but on account of their constant 
concomitancy. They always go together. All the names we have for 
smells, tastes, sounds, and for the various degrees of heat and cold, have a 
like ambiguity ; they signify both a sensation, and a quality perceived by 
means of that sensation. The first is the sign, the last the thing signified. 

We say that wcfeel the toothache, not that we perceive it. On the other 
hand, we say that we perceive the color of a body, not that we feel it. Is 
there any reason for this difference of phraseology 1 I apprehend that, in 
both cases, sensation and perception are conjoined. But in the toothache, 
the sensation, being very painful, engrosses the attention ; so that we speak 
of it as if it were felt only, and not perceived. But in seeing a colored 
body, the sensation is indifferent, and draws no attention. The quality in 
the body, which we call its color, is the only object of attention ; and 
therefore we speak of it as if it were perceived, and not felt.] 

* This language has been objected to, as bordering on mysticism, 
whereas, in truth, it is merely a statement of a fact, accompanied with an 
acknowledgment of our total ignorance of the manner in which it is to be 
explained. Is it any thing more than an extension to the phenomena of 
perception of what Mr. Hume has so justly and so profoundly remarked 
concerning the phenomena of voluntary motion 1 " Is there any principle 
in all nature more mysterious than the union of soxd and body, by which a sup- 
posed spiritual substance acquires such an influence over a material one, that the 
most refined thought is able to actuate the grossest matter? Were we empowered, 
by a secret wish, to remove mountains, or control the planets in their orbits, litis 
extensive authority would not be more extraordinary, nor more beyond our compre- 
hension." I do not know that Mr. Hume was ever charged witli any ten- 
dency to mysticism ; and yet the two cases seem to me to be perfectly anal- 
ogous. 



44 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

ulate these perceptions, are different in the case of the different 
senses, and form a very curious object of philosophical inquiry. 
Those, in particular, which regulate the acquired perceptions of 
sight, lead to some very interesting and important speculations ; 
and, I think, have never yet been explained in a manner com- 
pletely satisfactory. 

III. Of the Origin of our Knowledge. — The philosophers who 
endeavored to explain the operations of the human mind by the 
theory of ideas, and who took for granted, that, in every exer- 
tion of thought, there exists in the mind some object distinct 
from the thinking substance, were naturally led to inquire 
whence these ideas derive their origin ; in particular, whether 
they are conveyed to the mind from without by means of the 
senses, or form part of its original furniture? 

"With respect to this question, the opinions of the ancients 
were various ; but as the influence of these opinions on the pre- 
vailing systems of the present age is not very considerable, it 
is not necessary, for any of the purposes I have in view in this 
work, to consider them particularly. The moderns, too, have 
been much divided on the subject; some holding with Des 
Cartes, that the mind is furnished with certain innate ideas; 
others, with Mr. Locke, that all our ideas may be traced from 
sensation and reflection ; and many, (especially among the later 
metaphysicians in France,) that they may be all traced from 
sensation alone. 

Of these theories, that of Mr. Locke deserves more particu- 
larly our attention ; as it has served as a basis of most of the 
metaphysical systems which have appeared since his time ; and 
as the difference between it and the theory which derives all 
our ideas from sensation alone, is rather apparent than real. 

The theory of Locke. — In order to convey a just notion of 
Mr. Locke's doctrine concerning the origin of our ideas, it is 
necessary to remark, that he refers to sensation all the ideas 
which we are supposed to receive by the external senses ; our 
ideas, for example, of colors, of sounds, of hardness, of extension, 
of motion ; and, in short, of all the qualities and modes of mat- 
ter : to reflection, the ideas of our own mental operations which 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 45 

we derive from consciousness ; our ideas, for example, of mem- 
ory, of imagination, of volition, of pleasure, and of pain. These 
two sources, according to him, furnish us with all our simple 
ideas, and the only power which the mind possesses over them, 
is to perform certain operations, in the way of composition, ab- 
straction, generalization, etc., on the materials which it thus 
collects in the course of its experience. The laudable desire of 
Mr. Locke to introduce precision and perspicuity into meta- 
physical speculations, and his anxiety to guard the mind against 
error in general, naturally prepossessed him in favor of a doc- 
trine, which, when compared with those of his predecessors, was 
intelligible and simple ; and which, by suggesting a method, ap- 
parently easy and palpable, of analyzing our knowledge into its 
elementary principles, seemed to furnish an antidote against 
those prejudices which had been favored by the hypothesis of 
innate ideas. 

Refutation of it by Dr. JReid. — If Dr. Reid's reasonings on 
the subject of ideas be admitted, all these speculations with 
respect to their origin fall to the ground ; and the question to 
which they relate is reduced merely to a question of fact ; con- 
cerning the occasions on which the mind is first led to form those 
simple notions into which our thoughts may be analyzed, and 
which may be considered as the principles or elements of hu- 
man knowledge. With respect to many of these notions, this 
inquiry involves no difficulty. No one, for example, can be at 
a loss to ascertain the occasions on which the notions of colors 
and sounds are first formed by the mind : for these notions are 
confined to individuals who are possessed of particular senses, 
and cannot, by any combination of words, be conveyed to those 
who never enjoyed the use of them. The history of our 
notions of extension and figure, (which may be suggested to the 
mind by the exercise either of sight or of touch,) is not alto- 
gether so obvious ; and accordingly it has been the subject of 
various controversies. To trace the origin of these, and of our 
other simple notions with respect to the qualities of matter ; or, 
in other words, to describe the occasions on which, by the laws 
of our nature, they are suggested to the mind, is one of the lead- 



46 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

ing objects of Dr. Reid's inquiry, in his analysis of our external 
senses ; in which he carefully avoids every hypothesis with 
respect to the inexplicable phenomena of perception and of 
thought, and confines himself scrupulously to a literal state- 
ment of facts. Similar inquiries to these may be proposed, 
concerning the occasions on which we form the notions of time, 
of motion, of number, of causation, and an infinite variety of 
others. Thus, it has been observed by different authors, that 
every perception of change suggests to the mind the notion of a 
cause, without which that change could not have happened-. 
Dr. Reid remarks, that, without the faculty of memory, our 
perceptive powers could never have led us to form the idea of 
motion. I shall afterwards show, in the sequel of this work, 
that without the same faculty of memory, we never could have 
formed the notion of time ; and that without the faculty of 
abstraction, w<> could not have formed the notion of number. 
Such inquiries with respect to the origin of our knowledge, are 
curious and important ; and if conducted with judgment, they 
may lead to the most certain conclusions ; as they aim at 
nothing more than to ascertain facts, which, although not 
obvious to superficial observers, may yet be discovered by 
patient investigation. 

Whether all knowledge is derived ultimately from our sensa- 
tions. — With respect to the general question, Whether all our 
knowledge may be ultimately traced from our sensations ? 
I shall only observe at present, that the opinion we form con- 
cerning it is of much less consequence than is commonly sup- 
posed. That the mind cannot, without the grossest absurdity, 
be considered in the light of a receptacle, which is gradually 
furnished from without by materials introduced by the channel 
of the senses ; nor in that of a tabula rasa, upon which copies or 
resemblances of things external are imprinted ; I have already 
shown at sufficient length. Although, therefore, we should 
acquiesce in the conclusion, that, without our organs of sense, 
the mind must have remained destitute of knowledge, this con- 
cession could have no tendency whatever to favor the principles 
of materialism; as it implies nothing more than that the im- 



EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 47 

pressions made on our senses by external objects furnish tha 
occasions on which the mind, by the laws of its constitution, is 
led to perceive the qualities of the material ivorld, and to exert all 
the different modifications of thought of which it is capable. 

From the very slight view of the subject, however, which has 
been already given, it is sufficiently evident, that this doctrine, 
which refers the origin of all our knowledge to the occasions 
furnished by sense, must be received with many limitations. 
That those ideas, which Mr. Locke calls ideas of reflection, (or 
in other words, the notions which we form of the subjects of 
our own consciousness,) are not suggested to the mind immedi- 
ately by the sensations arising from the use of our organs of 
perception, is granted on all hands ; and, therefore, the amount 
of the doctrine now mentioned is nothing more than this ; that 
the first occasions on which our various intellectual faculties are 
exercised, are furnished by the impressions made on our organs 
of sense ; and consequently, that, without these impressions, it 
would have been impossible for us to arrive at the knowledge 
of our faculties. Agreeably to this explanation of the doctrine, 
it may undoubtedly be said with plausibility, (and I am inclined 
to believe, with truth,) that the occasions on which all our no- 
tions are formed, are furnished either immediately or ultimately 
by sense ; but if I am not much mistaken, this is not the mean- 
ing which is commonly annexed to the doctrine, either by its 
advocates or their opponents.* One thing at least is obvious, 
that, in this sense, it does not lead to those consequences which 
have interested one party of philosophers in its defence, and 
another in its refutation. 

The faculties of the mind may come into operation before we 
know of the existence of the material world. — There is another 
very important consideration which deserves our attention in 
this argument : that, even on the supposition that certain im- 



* ["All knowledge begins with experience," says Kant, "but all knowl- 
edge is not derived from experience." I may always wake up when iiae 
clock strikes five; but it is not necessarily the striking of the clock which 
wakes me up.] 



48 EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

pressions on our organs of sense are necessary to awaken the 
mind to a consciousness of its own existence, and to give rise to 
the exercise of its various faculties ; yet all this might have hap- 
pened without our having any knowledge of the qualities, or even 
of the existence, of the material world. To facilitate the admis- 
sion of this proposition, let us suppose a being formed in every 
other respect like man ; but possessed of no senses, excepting 
those of hearing and smelling. I make choice of these two 
senses, because it is obvious, that, by means of them alone, we 
never could have arrived at the knowledge of the primary qual- 
ities of matter, or even of the existence of things external. All 
that we could possibly have inferred from our occasional sensa- 
tions of smell and sound, would have been that there existed 
some unknown cause by which they were produced. 

Let us suppose, then, a particular sensation to be excited in 
the mind of such a being. The moment this happens, he must 
necessarily acquire the knowledge of two facts at once : that of 
the existence of the sensation ; and that of his own existence, as 
a sentient being. After the sensation is at an end, he can re- 
member he felt it ; he can conceive that he feels it again. If he 
has felt a variety of different sensations, he can compare them 
together in respect of the pleasure or the pain they have af- 
forded him ; and will naturally desire the return of the agreea- 
ble sensations, and be afraid of the return of those which were 
painful. If the sensations of smell and sound are both excited 
in his mind at the same time, he can attend to either of them he 
chooses, and withdraw his attention from the other ; or he can 
withdraw his attention from both, and fix it on some sensation 
he has felt formerly. In this manner, he might be led, merely 
by sensations existing in his mind, and conveying to him no in- 
formation concerning matter, to exercise many of his most im- 
portant faculties ; and amidst all these different modifications 
and operations of his mind, he would feel, with irresistible con- 
viction, that they all belong to one and the same sentient and 
intelligent being ; or, in other words, that they are all modifica- 
tions and operations of himself. I say nothing, at present, of 
the various simple notions, (or simple ideas, as they are com- 



ATTENTION. 49 

monly called,) which would arise in his mind; for example, the 
ideas of number, of duration, of cause and effect, of personal iden- 
tity ; all of which, though perfectly unlike his sensations, could 
not fail to be suggested by means of them. Such a being, then, 
might know all that w r e know of mind at present; and as his 
language would be appropriated to mind solely, and not borrowed 
by analogy from material phenomena, he would even possess 
important advantages over us in conducting the study of pneu- 
matology. 

From these observations it sufficiently appears, what is the 
real amount of the celebrated doctrine, w r hich refers the origin 
of all our knowledge to our sensations ; and that, even granting 
it to be true, (which, for my own part, I am disposed to do, in 
the sense in which I have now explained it,) it would by no 
means follow from it, that our notions of the operations of mind, 
nor even many of those notions w 7 hich are commonly suggested 
to us, in the jirst instance, by the perception of external objects, 
are necessarily subsequent to our knowledge of the qualities, or 
even of the existence, of matter. 



CHAPTER II 



OF ATTENTION. 



Attention necessary to memory, if not to perception. — When 
we are deeply engaged in conversation, or occupied with any 
speculation that is interesting to the mind, the surrounding ob- 
jects either do not produce in us the perceptions they are fitted 
to excite; or these perceptions are instantly forgotten. A clock, 
for example, may strike in the same room with us, without our 
being able, next moment, to recollect whether we heard it or 
not. 

In these, and similar cases, I believe, it is commonly taken 
5 



50 ATTENTION. 

for granted, that we really do not perceive the external object 
From some analogous facts, however, I am inclined to suspect 
that this opinion is not well founded. A person who falls asleep 
at church, and is suddenly awaked, is unable to recollect the 
last words spoken by the preacher ; or even to recollect that he 
was speaking at all. And yet, that sleep does not suspend en- 
tirely the powers of perception may be inferred from this, that 
if the preacher were to make a sudden pause in his discourse, 
every person in the congregation who was asleep would in- 
stantly awake. In this case, therefore, it appears, that a person 
may be conscious of a perception, without being able afterwards 
to recollect it. 

Other instances illustrating this fact. — Many other instances 
of the same general fact might be produced. When we read a 
book, (especially in a language which is not perfectly familiar 
to us,) we must perceive successively every different letter, and 
must afterwards combine these letters into syllables and words, 
before we comprehend the meaning of a sentence. This pro- 
cess, however, passes through the mind, without leaving any 
trace in the memory. 

It has been proved by optical writers, that, in perceiving the 
distances of visible objects from the eye, there is a judgment of the 
understanding antecedent to the perception.* In some cases, this 



* [" It is, I think, agreed by all," says Berkeley, " that distance of itself, 
and immediately, cannot be seen. For distance being a line directed end- 
wise to the eye, it projects only one point in the fund of the eye ; which 
point remains invariably tbe same, whether the distance be longer or 
shorter." Take the following example. If a traveller on a dark night 
and a strange road sees before him a fixed light whicb is a mere bright 
point, he cannot tell whether it is a rod or a mile distant from him ; he 
may even confound it with a star near the horizon. If the light, however, 
has a visible magnitude, and especially if he can see it flicker, so that he 
can form some guess as to its origin and nature, he may estimate its dis- 
tance very correctly. But even in this case, he does not see its distance, 
but infers it from the magnitude, color, flickering, or some other circum- 
stance which previous experience has taught him the meaning of. 

Many other facts show the necessity of experience before we can obtain 
correct not ons of distance from the eve alone. "We are not so much accus< 



ATTENTION. 51 

judgment is founded on a variety of circumstances combined 
together ; the conformation of the organ necessary for distinct 
vision ; the inclination of the optic axes ; the distinctness or 
indistinctness of the minute parts of the object ; the distances ot 
the intervening objects from each other, and from the eye ; and, 
perhaps, on other circumstances besides these : and yet, in con- 
sequence of our familiarity with such processes from our earliest 
infancy, the perception seems to be instantaneous ; and it re- 
quires much reasoning, to convince persons unaccustomed to 
philosophical speculations, that the fact is otherwise. 

Another instance, of a still more familiar nature, may be of 
use, for the further illustration of the same subject. It is well 
known that our thoughts do not succeed each other at random, but 
according to certain laws of association, which modern philoso- 
phers have been at much pains to investigate. It frequently, 
however, happens, particularly when the mind is animated by 
conversation, that it makes a sudden transition from one subject 
to another, which, at first view, appears to be very remote from 
it ; and that it requires a considerable degree of reflection, to en- 
able a person himself by whom the transition was made, to as- 
certain what were the intermediate ideas. A curious instance of 
such a sudden transition is mentioned by Hobbes in his Levia- 
than. " In a company," (says he,) " in which the conversation 
turned on the civil war, what could be conceived more imperti- 
nent, than for a person to ask abruptly, What was the value of 
a Roman denarius ? On a little reflection, however, I was easily 
able to trace the train of thought which suggested the question : 



tomed to see objects at a distance from us in a vertical line, as in a horizon- 
tal one ; hence, the same visible appearance, if placed directly above or be- 
low our own position, does not suggest the same magnitude, as when seen 
at an equal distance on a level with the eye. If we are standing on the sea- 
shore, a ship distant a few hundred feet appears of the natural size, and 
men, not pigmies, walk her deck. But ascend to the brow of the cliff, 
and 

" The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 

Appear like mice ; and yon tall anchoring bark 

Diminished to her cock ; her cock, a buoy 

Almost too small for sight."] 



52 ATTENTION. 

for the original subject of discourse naturally introduced the his- 
tory of the king, and of the treachery of those who surrendered 
his person to his enemies; this again introduced the treachery 
of Judas Iscariot, and the sum of money which he received for 
his reward. And all this train of ideas," says Hobbes, " passed 
through the mind of the speaker in a twinkling, in consequence 
of the velocity of thought." It is by no means improbable, that 
if the speaker himself had been interrogated about the connec- 
tion of ideas, which led him aside from the original topic of dis- 
course, he would have found himself, at first, at a loss for an 
answer. 

In the instances which have been last mentioned, we have 
also a proof, that a 'perception or an idea, which passes through 
the mind without leaving any trace in the memory, may yet serve 
to introduce other ideas connected with it by the laws of associa- 
tion. Other proofs of this important fact shall be mentioned 
afterwards. 

When a perception or an idea passes through the mind, with- 
out our being able to recollect it the next moment, the vulgar 
themselves ascribe our want of memory to a want of attention. 
Thus, in the instance already mentioned, of the clock, a person, 
upon observing that the minute-hand had just passed twelve, 
would naturally say, that he did not attend to the clock when it 
was striking. There seems, therefore, to be a certain effort of 
mind upon which, even in the judgment of the vulgar, memory 
in some measure depends ; and which they distinguish by the 
name of attention. 

The connection between attention and memory has been re- 
marked by many authors. " Nee dubium est," (says Quinctil- 
ian, speaking of memory,) " quin plurimum in hac parte valeat 
mentis intentio, et velut acies luminum a prospectu rerum quas 
intuetur non aversa." [" There is no doubt that great effect is 
produced by close attention, just as vision is most perfect when 
the eyes are steadily fixed on the object seen."] The same ob- 
servation has been made by Locke, and by most of the writers 
on the subject of education. 

Attention a separate faculty of the mind. — But although the 



ATTENTION. 53 

connection between attention and memory has been frequently 
remarked in general terms, I do not recollect that the power of 
attention has been mentioned by any of the writers on pneuma- 
tology, in their enumeration of the faculties of the mind ; * nor 
lias it been considered by any one, so far as I know, as of suffi- 
cient importance to deserve a particular examination. Ilelve- 
tius, indeed, in his very ingenious work, De V Esprit, has entitled 
one of his chapters, De Vinegale capacite d 'Attention ; but 
what he considers under this article, is chiefly that capacity of 
patient inquiry, (or as he calls it, continuous attention,) upon 
which philosophical genius seems in a great measure to depend. 
He has also remarked, with the writers already mentioned, that 
the impression which any thing makes on the memory, depends 
much on the degree of attention we give to it ; but he has taken 
no notice of that effort which is absolutely essential to the low- 
est degree of memory. It is this effort that I propose to con- 
sider at present : not those different degrees of attention which 
imprint things more or less deeply on the mind, but that act or 
effort without which we have no recollection or memory whatever. 
Some attention necessary for any act of memory whatever. — 
With respect to the nature of this effort, it is perhaps impossible 
for us to obtain much satisfaction. We often speak of greater 
and less degrees of attention ; and, I believe, in these cases, 
conceive the mind (if I may use the expression) to exert itself 
with different degrees of energy. I am doubtful, however, if 
this expression conveys any distinct meaning. For my own 
part, I am inclined to suppose, (though I would by no means be 
understood to speak with confidence,) that it is essential to mem 
ory, that the perception or the idea that we would wish to remember, 
should remain in the mind for a certain space of time, and should 

* Some important observations on the subject of attention occur in dif- 
ferent parts of Dr. Ilcid's writings. To this ingenious author wc arc 
indebted for the remark, that attention to things external is properly called 
observation ; and attention to the subjects of our consciousness, reflection. 
He has also explained the causes of the peculiar difficulties which accom- 
pany this last exertion of the mind, and which form the chief obstacles to 
the progress of pneumatology. 



54 ATTENTION. 

be contemplated by it exclusively of every thing else ; and that 
attention consists partly (perhaps entirely) in the effort of the 
mind to detain the idea or the perception, and to exclude the 
other objects that solicit its notice. 

Notwithstanding, however, the difficulty of ascertaining in 
what this act of the mind consists, every person must be satis- 
fied of its reality from his own consciousness ; and of its essen- 
tial connection with the power of memory. I have already 
mentioned several instances of ideas passing through the mind, 
without our being able to recollect them next moment. These in- 
stances were produced, merely to illustrate the meaning I annex 
to the word attention ; and to recall to the recollection of the 
reader, a few striking cases, in which the possibility of our car- 
rying on a process of thought which we are unable to attend to 
at the time, or to remember afterwards, is acknowledged in the 
received systems of philosophy. I shall now mention some 
other phenomena, which appear to me to be very similar to 
these, and to be explicable in the same manner ; although they 
have commonly been referred to very different principles. 

The facility of action which results from habit, explained. — 
The wonderful effect of practice in the formation of habits, has 
been often and justly taken notice of, as one of the most curious 
circumstances in the human constitution. A mechanical opera- 
tion, for example, which we at first performed with the utmost 
difficulty, comes, in time, to be so familiar to us, that we are 
able to perform it without the smallest danger of mistake ; even 
while the attention appears to be completely engaged with other 
subjects. The truth seems to be, that in consequence of the 
association of ideas, the different steps of the process present 
themselves successively to the thoughts without any [effort of] 
recollection on our part, and with a degree of rapidity propor- 
tioned to the length of our experience, so as to save us entirely 
the trouble of hesitation and reflection, by giving us every mo- 
ment a precise and steady notion of the effect to be produced.* 



* I do not mean by this observation, to call in question the effects which 
the practice of the mechanical arts has on the muscles of the body. These 



ATTENTION. 55 

In the case of some operations which are very familiar to us, 
we find ourselves unable to attend to, or to recollect, the acts of 
the will by which they are preceded ; and accordingly, some 
philosophers of great eminence have called in question the ex 
istence of such volitions ; and have represented our habitual 
actions as involuntary and mechanical. But surely the circum- 
stance of our inability to recollect our volitions, does not author- 
ize us to dispute their possibility ; any more than our inability 
to attend to the process of the mind, in estimating the distance 
of an object from the eye, authorizes us to affirm that the per- 
ception is instantaneous. Nor does it add any force to the ob- 
jection to urge, that there are instances in which we find it diffi- 
cult, or perhaps impossible, to check our habitual actions by a 
contrary volition. For it must be remembered, that this con- 
trary volition does not remain with us steadily during the whole 
operation ; but is merely a general intention or resolution, which 
is banished from the mind, as soon as the occasion presents 
itself with which the habitual train of our thoughts and volitions 
is associated.* 

It may indeed be said, that these observations only prove the 
possibility that our habitual actions may be voluntary. But if 
this be admitted, nothing more can well be required ; for surely, 



are as indisputable as its effects on the mind. A man who has been accus- 
tomed to write with his right hand, can write better with his left hand, than 
another who never practised the art at all ; but he cannot write so well 
with his left hand as with his right. The effects of practice, therefore, it 
should seem, are produced partly on the mind, and partly on the body. 

* The solution of this difficulty, which is given by Dr. Portcrfield, is 
somewhat curious. " Such is the power of custom and habit, that many 
actions which are no doubt voluntary, and proceed from our mind, are in 
certain circumstances rendered necessary, so as to appear altogether me- 
chanical, and independent of our wills ; but it does not from thence fol- 
low, that our mind is not concerned in such motions, but only that it has 
imposed upon itself a law, whereby it regulates and governs them to the 
greatest advantage. In all this, there is nothing of intrinsical necessity ; 
the mind is at absolute liberty to act as it pleases ; but being a wise agent, 
it cannot choose but to act in conformity to this law, by reason of the utit 
ity and advantage that arises from this way of acting." 



56 ATTENTION. 

if these phenomena are clearly explicable from the known and 
acknowledged laws of the human mind, it would be unphilo- 
sophical to devise a new principle, on purpose to account for 
them. The doctrine, therefore, which I have laid down with 
respect to the nature of habits, is by no means founded on hy- 
pothesis, as has been objected to me by some of my friends ; 
but on the contrary, the charge of hypothesis falls on those who 
attempt to explain them by saying that they are mechanical or 
automatic ; a doctrine which, if it is at all intelligible, must be 
understood as implying the existence of some law of our consti- 
tution, which has been hitherto unobserved by philosophers ; 
and to which, I believe, it will be difficult to find any thing 
analogous in our constitution. 

Reid and Hartley on habits in which both body and mind are 
concerned. — In the foregoing observations, I have had in view 
a favorite doctrine of Dr. Hartley's, which has been maintained 
also of late by a much higher authority, I mean Dr. Reid. 

" Habit," (says this ingenious author,) " differs from instinct, 
not in its nature, but in its origin ; the last being natural, the 
first acquired. Both operate without will or intention, without 
thought, and therefore may be called mechanical principles." 
In another passage, he expresses himself thus : " I conceive it 
to be a part of our constitution, that what we have been accus- 
tomed to do, we acquire not only a facility, but a proneness, to 
do on like occasions ; so that it requires a particular will or 
effort to forbear it ; but to do it requires, very often, no will 
at all." 

The same doctrine is laid down still more explicitly by Dr. 
Hartley. 

" Suppose," says he, " a person who has a perfectly voluntary 
command over his fingers, to begin to learn to play on the harp- 
sichord. The first step is to move his fingers from key to key, 
with a slow motion, looking at the notes, and exerting an ex- 
press act of volition in every motion. By degrees, the motions 
cling to one another and to the impressions of the notes, in the 
way of association so often mentioned, the acts of volition grow- 
ing less and less express all the time, till at last they become 



ATTENTION. 57 

evanescent and imperceptible. For an expert performer will 
play from notes, or ideas laid up in the memory, and at ths 
same time carry on quite a different train of thoughts in his 
mind ; or even hold a conversation with another. Whence we 
may conclude, that there is no intervention of the idea, or state 
of mind, called the will." Cases of this sort, Hartley calls, 
" transitions of voluntary actions into automatic ones." 

Confutation of Hartley's doctrine. — I cannot help thinking 
it more philosophical to suppose, that those actions which are 
originally voluntary, always continue so ; although, in the case 
of operations which are become habitual in consequence of long 
practice, we may not be able to recollect every different volition. 
Thus, in the case of a performer on the harpsichord, I appre- 
hend, that there is an act of the will preceding every motion of 
every finger, although he may not be able to recollect these vo- 
litions afterwards ; and although he may, during the time of his 
performance, be employed in carrying on a separate train of 
thought. For, it must be remarked that the most rapid per- 
former can, when he pleases, play so slowly, as to be able to 
attend to, and to recollect, every separate act of his will in the 
various movements of his fingers ; and he can gradually acceler- 
ate the rate of his execution, till he is unable to recollect these 
acts. Now in this instance, one of two suppositions must be 
made ; the one is, that the operations in the two cases are car- 
ried on precisely in the same manner, and differ only in the 
degree of rapidity ; and when this rapidity exceeds a certain 
rate, the acts of the will are too momentary to leave any im- 
pression on the memory. The other is, that when the rapidity 
exceeds a certain rate, the operation is taken entirely out of our 
hands ; and is carried on by some unknown power, of the na- 
ture of which we are as ignorant, as of the cause of the circula- 
tion of the blood, or of the motion of the intestines.* The last 



* This seems to have been the opinion of Bishop Berkeley, whose doc- 
trine concerning the nature of our habitual actions, coincides with that of 
the two philosophers already quoted. " It must be owned, we are not 
conscious of the systole and diastole of the heart, or the motion of the dia- 



58 ATTENTION. 

supposition seems to me to be somewhat similar to that of a 
man, who should maintain, that, although a body projected with 
a moderate velocity is seen to pass through all the intermediate 
spaces in moving from one place to another, yet we are not en- 
titled to conclude, that this happens when the body moves so 
quickly as to become invisible to the eye. The former suppo- 
sition is supported by the analogy of many other facts in our 
constitution. Of some of these, I have already taken notice ; 
and it would be easy to add to the number. An expert account- 
ant, for example, can sum up, almost with a single glance of his 
eye, a long column of figures. He can tell the sum with uner- 
ring certainty ; while, at the same time, he is unable to recol- 
lect any one of the figures of which that sum is composed : and 
yet nobody doubts, that each of these figures has passed through 
his mind, or supposes, that when the rapidity of the progress 
becomes so great that he is unable to recollect the various steps 
of it, he obtains the result by a sort of inspiration. This last 
supposition would be perfectly analogous to Dr. Hartley's doc- 
trine concerning the nature of our habitual exertions. 

Rapidity of the mind's action. — The only plausible objection 
which, I think, can be offered to the principles I. have endeav- 
ored to establish on this subject, is founded on the astonishing, 
and almost incredible, rapidity they necessarily suppose in our 
intellectual operations. When a person, for example, reads 
aloud, there must, according to this doctrine, be a separate vo- 
lition preceding the articulation of every letter ; and it has been 



phragm. It may not, nevertheless, be thence inferred, that unknowing 
nature can act regularly as well as ourselves. The true inference is, that 
the self thinking individual, or human person, is not the real author of 
those natural motions. And, in fact, no man blames himself, if they are 
wrong, or values himself, if they are right. The same may be said of the 
fingers of a musician, which some object to be moved by habit, which un- 
derstands not ; it being evident that what is done by rule, must proceed 
from something that understands the rule ; therefore, if not from the mu- 
sician himself, from some other active intelligence ; the same, perhaps, 
which governs bees and spiders, and moves the limbs of those who walk 
in their sleep." 



ATTENTION. 59 

found, by actual trial,* that it is possible to pronounce about 
two thousand letters in a minute. Is it reasonable to suppose, 

* " The contractions of the muscles take place and are repeated with 
incredible quickness. We see this in the running of animals, especially 
of quadrupeds ; and in the movement of the tongue, which articulates in a 
minute about 400 words, comprising perhaps 2,000 letters ; though for the 
enunciation of many of the letters, several contractions of the muscles are 
necessary." — Gregory's View of the Theory of Medicine. 

In Gibbon's Posthumous Works, I find a statement still more curious, 
as it relates to the number of words pronounced in a given time by a 
speaker, in the course of an extempore speech. "As I was waiting in the 
manager's box at Mr. Hastings' trial iu Westminster Hall, I had the curi- 
osity to inquire of the shorthand writer, how many words a ready and 
rapid orator might pronounce in an hour'? From 7,000 to 7,500 was the 
answer. The medium of 7,200 will afford 120 words in each minute." 

In this instance, however, here referred to by Gibbon, the business of 
articulation forms but a very inconsiderable part of the voluntary exertions 
the speaker is incessantly making. One of his efforts, and a very compli- 
cated and wonderful one, is taken notice of by Quinctilian in the follow- 
ing passage : " But after all, what is extemporary speaking, but a vigor- 
ous exertion of memory [and of attention] 1 For when we are speaking 
of one thing, we are premeditating another that we are about to speak. 
This premeditation is carried forward to other objects, and whatever dis- 
coveries it makes, it deposits them in the memory ; and thus the invention 
having placed it there, the memory becomes a kind of intermediate instru 
ment that hands it to the elocution." 

A much more comprehensive view, however, of this astonishingly com- 
plicated exertion of the mind, is given by Dr. Reid. 

" From what cause does it happen, that a good speaker no sooner con- 
ceives what he would express, than the letters, syllables, and words ar- 
'■ range themselves according to innumerable rules of speech, while he never 
thinks of these rules ? He means to express certain sentiments ; in order 
to do this properly, a selection must be made of the materials out of many 
thousands. He makes this selection without any expense of time or 
thought. The materials selected must be arranged in a particular order, 
according to innumerable rules of grammar, rhetoric, and logic, and ac- 
companied with a particular tone and emphasis. He does all this as it 
were by inspiration, without thinking of any of those rules, and without 
breaking one of them. 

" This art, if it were not so common, would appear more wonderful, 
than that a man should dance blindfold amidst a thousand burning plough- 
shares, without being burnt. Yet all this may be done by habit." 

It must be owned, that it is difficult to conceive, that, in such a case as 



60 ATTENTION. 

that the mind is capable of so many different acts in an interval 
of time so very inconsiderable ? 

With respect to this objection, it may be observed, in the first 
place, that all arguments against the foregoing doctrine with re- 
spect to our habitual exertions, in so far as they are founded 
on the inconceivable rapidity which they suppose in our intel- 
lectual operations, apply equally to the common doctrine con- 
cerning our perception of distance by the eye. But this is not 
all. To what does the supposition amount, which is considered 
as so incredible ? Only to this, that the mind is so formed, as 
to be able to carry on certain intellectual processes, in intervals 
of time too short to be estimated by our faculties ; a supposition 
which, so far from being extravagant, is supported by the anal-- 
ogy of many of our most certain conclusions in natural philoso- 
phy. The discoveries made by the microscope, have laid open 
to our senses a world of wonders, the existence of which hardly 
any man would have admitted upon inferior evidence ; and have 
gradually prepared the way for those physical speculations, 
which explain some of the most extraordinary phenomena of 
nature, by means of modifications of matter far too subtile for 
the examination of our organs. Why then should it be consid- 
ered as unphilosophical, after having demonstrated the exist- 
ence of various intellectual processes which escape our atten- 
tion in consequence of their rapidity, to carry the supposition 
a little further, in order to bring under the known laws of the 
human constitution a class of mental operations, which must 
otherwise remain perfectly inexplicable ? Surely, our ideas of 
time are merely relative, as well as our ideas of extension ; nor 
is there any good reason for doubting, that, if our powers of 
attention and memory were more perfect than they are, so as 

this, there is a separate act of the will accompanying all the intellectual 
operations here described ; and therefore it is not surprising that some 
philosophers should have attempted to keep the difficulty out of sight, by 
the use of one of these convenient phrases to which it is not possible to an- 
nex a clear or a precise idea. This, at least, I must confess, is the case 
with me, with respect to the words mechanical, automatical, and organical, 
as emploj :>d on this occasion 



ATTENTION. 61 

to give us the same advantage in examining rapid events, which 
the microscope gives for examining minute portions of exten- 
sion, they would enlarge our views with respect to the intellec- 
tual world, no less than that instrument has with respect to the 
material. 

It may contribute to remove, still more completely, some of 
the scruples which are naturally suggested by the foregoing 
doctrine, to remark, that, as the great use of attention and mem- 
ory is to enable us to treasure up the results of our experience 
and reflection for the future regulation of our conduct, it would 
have answered no purpose for the Author of our nature to have 
extended their province to those intervals of time, which we 
have no occasion to estimate in the common business of life. 
All the intellectual processes I have mentioned are subservient 
to some particular end, either of perception or of action ; and it 
would have been perfectly superfluous, if, after this end were 
gained, the steps which are instrumental in bringing it about, 
were all treasured up in the memory. Such a constitution of 
our nature would have had no other effect but to store the mind 
with a variety of useless particulars. 

After all I have said, it will perhaps be still thought, that 
some of the reasonings I have offered are too hypothetical ; and 
it is even possible, that some may be disposed rather to dispute 
the common theory of vision, than admit the conclusions I have 
endeavored to establish. To such readers, the following consid- 
erations may be of use, as they afford a more palpable instance 
than I have yet mentioned, of the rapidity with which the 
thoughts may be trained, by practice, to shift from one thing to 
another. 

Instances of the quickness of mental operation. — When an 
equilibrist balances a rod upon his finger, not only the attention 
of his mind, but the observation of his eye, is constantly requi- 
site. It is evident that the part of his body which supports the 
object is never wholly at rest ; otherwise the object would no 
more stand upon it, than if placed in the same position upon a 
table. The equilibrist, therefore, must watch, in the very be- 
ginning, every inclination of the object from the proper position, 

6 



62 ATTENTION. 

in order to counteract this inclination by a contrary movement. 
In this manner, the object has never time to fall in any one 
direction, and is supported in a way somewhat analogous to that 
in which a top is supported on a pivot, by being made to spin 
upon an axis. That a person should be able to do this in the 
case of a single object, is curious ; but that he should be able to 
balance, in the same way, two or three, upon different parts of 
his body, and at the same time balance himself on a small cord 
or wire, is indeed wonderful. Nor is it possible to conceive 
that, in such an instance, the mind, at one and the same mo- 
ment, attends to these different equilibriums ; for it is not merely 
the attention which is requisite, but the eye. We must there- 
fore conclude that both of these, [the mind and the eye,] are 
directed successively to the different equilibriums, but change 
from one object to another with such velocity, that the effect, 
with respect to the experiment, is the same as if they were 
directed to all the objects constantly. 

It .is worth while to remark further, with respect to this last 
illustration, that it affords direct evidence of the possibility of 
our exerting acts of the will, which we are unable to recollect ; 
for the movements of the equilibrist do not succeed each other 
in a regular order, like those of the harpsichord player in per- 
forming a piece of music ; but must, in every instance, be regu- 
lated by accidents, which may vary in numberless respects, and 
which indeed must vary in numberless respects, every time he 
repeats the experiment : and therefore, although, in the former 
case, we should suppose, with Hartley, " that the motions cling 
to one another, and to the impressions of the notes, in the way 
of association, without any intervention of the state of mind 
called will" yet in this instance, even the possibility of such a 
supposition is directly contradicted by the fact. 

The dexterity of jugglers (which, by the way, merits a greater 
degree of attention from philosophers, than it has yet attracted,) 
affords many curious illustrations of the same doctrine. The 
whole of this art seems to me to be founded on this principle ; 
that it -is possible for a person, by long practice, to acquire a 
power, not only of carrying on certain intellectual processes 



axiilNTIOK. 63 

more quickly than other men, (for all the feats of legerdermain 
suppose the exercise of observation, thought, and volition,) but 
of performing a variety of movements with the hand, before the 
eyes of a company, in an interval of time too short to enable 
the spectators to exert that degree of attention which is neces- 
sary to lay a foundation for memory.* 

* Mr. Locke, in his Essay on Human Understanding, has taken notice 
of the quickness with which the operations of the mind are carried on, and 
has referred to the acquired perceptions of sight as a proof of it. 

" We are further to consider, concerning perception, that the ideas we 
receive by sensation are often, in grown people, altered by the judgment, 
without our taking notice of it. When we set before our eyes a round 
globe of any uniform color, for example, gold, alabaster, or jet, it is certain 
that the idea thereby imprinted on our mind is of a flat circle, variously 
shadowed, with several degrees of light and brightness coming to our eyes. 
But we, having by use been accustomed to perceive what kind of appear- 
ance convex bodies are wont to make in us, and what alterations are made 
in the reflections of light by the difference of the sensible figure of bodies ; 
the judgment presently, by a habitual custom, alters the appearances into 
their causes ; so that, from that which truly is variety of shadow or color, 
collecting the figure, it makes it pass for a mark of figure, and frames to 
itself a perception of convex figure, and an uniform color ; when the idea 
we receive from thence is only a plane variously colored ; as is evident in 
painting." — Chap. ix. sec. 8. 

" But this is not, I think, usual in any of our ideas but those received 
by sight ; because sight, the most comprehensive of all our senses, convey- 
ing to our minds the ideas of lights and colors, which are peculiar only to 
that sense, and also the far different ideas of space, figure, and motion, the 
several varieties whereof change the appearances of its proper object, 
namely, light and colors, we bring ourselves by use to judge of the one by 
the other. This, in many cases, by a settled habit in things whereof we 
have frequent experience, is performed so constantly, and so quick, that 
we take that for the perception of our sensation, which is an idea formed 
by our judgment; so that one, namely, that of sensation, serves only to 
excite the other, and is scarce taken any notice of itself; as a man who 
reads or hears with attention and understanding, takes little notice of the 
character or sounds, but of the ideas that are excited in him by them. 

" Nor need we wonder that this is done with so little notice, if we con- 
sider how very quick the actions of the mind are performed ; for as itself 
is thought to take up no space, to have no extension, so its actions seem 
to require no time, but many of them seem to be crowded into an instant. 
I speak this in comparison with the actions of the body. Any one may 



64 ATTENTION. 

Hie will does not control the vital motions. — As some philos- 
ophers have disputed the influence of the will in the case of 
habits, so others (particularly Stahl and his followers) have 
gone into the opposite extreme, by referring to the will all the 
vital motions [such as the beating of the heart, the peristaltic 

easily observe this in bis own thoughts, who will take the pains to reflect 
on them. How, as it were in an instant, do our minds, with one glance, 
see all parts of a demonstration, which may very well be called a long one, 
if we consider the time it will require to put it into words, and step by 
step show it to another ? Secondly, we shall not be much surprised that 
this is done in us with so little notice, if we consider how the facility which 
we get of doing things by a custom of doing, makes them often pass in us 
without our notice. Habits, especially such as are begun very early, come 
at last to produce actions in us, which often escape our observation. How 
frequently do we in a day cover our eyes with our eyelids, without per- 
ceiving that we are at all in the dark ! Men that by custom have got the 
use of a byword, do almost in eveiy sentence pronounce sounds, which, 
though taken notice of by others, they themselves neither hear nor ob- 
serve; and, therefore, it is not so strange that our mind should often 
change the idea of its sensation into that of its judgment, and make one 
serve only to excite the other, without our taking notice of it." — Ibid, 
sees. 9, 10. 

The habit mentioned by Locke, in this paragraph, of occasionally wink- 
ing with the eyelids, (which is not accompanied with any memory of our 
being, in every such instance, in a momentary state of total darkness,) de- 
serves to be added to the cases already mentioned, to show the dependence 
of memory upon attention. 

[Stewart and Locke are here mistaken in supposing that, when the eye- 
lids wink, we are placed "in a momentary state of total darkness." It is 
a well ascertained fact, that impressions made upon the retina of the eye 
continue for about an eighth of a second after the object which produces 
them is removed. An obvious illustration of this fact is the familiar ex- 
periment of whirling round in a circle a stick which is tipped with fire ; the 
sensation then produced is that of a continuous circle of fire, because the 
impression made by the fiery end at each point in the circle continues until 
the stick comes round to that point again. In winking, the eyelids being 
closed less than the eighth part of a second, the sensation of the light and of 
objects before us is not at all interrupted ; no darkness is perceived. Just 
so, if a humming top, which has an orifice, about three-quarters of an inch 
square, in its periphery, is spun rapidly, the orifice becomes invisible, be- 
cause the impression left by the unbroken portion of the periphery then 
becomes continuous.] 



ATTENTION. 65 

motion of the intestines, etc.] If it be admitted, say these phi- 
losophers, that there are instances in which we will an effect, 
without being able to make it an object of attention, is it not 
possible that, what we commonly call the vital and involuntary 
motions, may be the consequences of our own thought and voli- 
tion? But there is surely a wide difference between those 
cases, in which the mind was at first conscious of thought and 
volition, and gradually lost the power of attending to them, from 
the growing rapidity of the intellectual process ; and a case in 
which the effect itself is perfectly unknown to the bulk of man- 
kind, even after they arrive at maturity, and in which this effect 
has continued to take place with the most perfect regularity, 
from the very beginning of their animal existence, and long be- 
fore the first dawn of either reflection or experience. 

Some of the followers of Stahl have stated the fact rather in- 
accurately, even in respect to our habitual exertions. Thus Dr. 
Porterfield, in his Treatise on the Eye, is at pains to prove that 
the soul may think and will without knowledge or consciousness. 
But this, I own, is to me inconceivable. The true state of the 
fact, I apprehend is, that the mind may think and will, without 
attending to its thoughts and volitions, so as to be able afterwards 
to recollect them. Nor is this merely a verbal criticism; for 
there is an important difference between consciousness and at- 
tention, which it is very necessary to keep in view, in order to 
think upon this subject with any degree of precision.* The one 
is an involuntary state of the mind ; the other is a voluntary 
act ; the one has no immediate connection with memory ; but 
the other is so essentially subservient to it, that, without some 
degree of it, the ideas and perceptions which pass through the 
mind, seem to leave no trace behind them. | 

* The distinction between attention and consciousness is pointed out b) 
Dr. Reid. " Attention is a voluntary act ; it requires an active exertion to 
begin and to continue it, and it may be continued as long as we will; but 
consciousness is involuntary, and of no continuance, changing with every 
thought." 

t [Here, and elsewhere, Stewart assumes too absolutely, that every act 
cr movement i» either entirely voluntary or entirely involuntary. But the 

6* 



66 ATTENTION. 

How the attention is distributed among simultaneous sensations, 
— When two persons are speaking to us at once, we can attend 

control which the will exercises, according to the best physiologists, is 
often partial or imperfect. " There are many involuntary movements," 
says Miiller, an eminent physiologist, " performed by muscles which are 
[generally] subject to the will, — movements in some cases following as 
regular a rhythm as do the motions of the heart. Certain muscles also, 
which are quite independent of the influence of the wiU, are nevertheless 
influenced by particular states of the mind." 

The associate or consensual movements are those " which, contrary to our 
will, accompany other, voluntary, motions. . . . Very few persons indeed 
can cause the different muscles of the face to act singly ; they cannot, in 
most instances, make the individual muscles act, except in groups with 
other muscles." We find a difficulty in calling into action separately the 
different fingers of the same hand ; in extending, for instance, the third or 
fourth finger without extending at the same time the first and second. 
The muscles of the eyes have this tendency to association ; it is impossi- 
ble, for example, to turn one eye downwards and the other outwards, or 
both outwards at the same time. When one eye is turned outwards, the 
other is always rotated involuntarily inwards. During violent bodily ex- 
ertion, many muscles act by association, although their action shows no 
apparent purpose ; a man using great muscular exertion moves the mus- 
cles of his face, as if they were aiding him in raising his load ; during la- 
bored respiration, and in persons in a state of debility, the muscles of the 
face act simultaneously, but involuntarily ; although, except by raising the 
" wings of the nostrils," they can in no way assist respiration. 

" The less perfect the action of the nervous system," continues Miiller, 
" the more frequently do associate motions occur. It is only by education 
that we acquire the power of confining the influence of volition in the pro- 
duction of voluntary motions to a certain number of nervous fibres issuing 
from the brain. An awkward person, in performing one voluntary move- 
ment, makes many others, which are produced involuntarily by consen- 
sual nervous action. In the piano-forte player, we have an example, on 
the other hand, of the faculty of insulation of the nervous influence in its 
highest perfection." 

Now, if education and habit, as is here stated, can insulate movements 
which are by nature consensual, if they can enable us to perform separately 
motions which were originally associated, it would^seem that education and 
habit might also associate acts which were at first independent of each 
other, or, in other words, might teach us to perform by a single effort of 
the will several movements each of which originally required a distinct vo- 
lition. To adopt Stewart's illustration, the equilibrist or the rope-dancer 
may need but one volition to put in motion several distinct muscles whose 



ATTENTION. 67 

to either of them at pleasure, without being much disturbed by 
the other. If we attempt to listen to both, we can understand 
neither. The fact seems to be, that when we attend constantly 
to one of the speakers, the words spoken by the other make no 
impression on the memory, in consequence of our not attending 
to them ; and affect us as little as if they had not been uttered. 
This power, however, of the mind to attend to either speaker at 
pleasure, supposes that it is, at one and the same time, conscious 
of the sensations which both produce. 

Another well-known fact may be of use in illustrating the 
same distinction. A person who accidentally loses his sight, 
never fails to improve gradually in the sensibility of his touch. 
Now, there are only two ways of explaining this. The one is, 
that, in consequence of the loss of the one sense, some change 
takes place in the physical constitution of the body, so as to im- 
prove a different organ of perception. The other, that the 
mind gradually acquires a power of attending to and remember- 
ing those slighter sensations of which it was formerly conscious, 
but which, from our habits of inattention, made no impression 
whatever on the memory. No one, surely, can hesitate for a 
moment, in pronouncing which of these two suppositions is the 
most philosophical. 

Having treated, at considerable length, of those habits in 
which both mind and body are concerned, I proceed to make a 
few remarks on some phenomena which are purely intellectual ; 
and which, I think, are explicable on the same principles with 
those which have been now under our review. 

The influence of attention on memory illustrated by phenomena 
and habits purely intellectual. — Every person who has studied 
the elements of geometry, must have observed many cases in 
which the truth of a theorem struck him the moment he heard the 
enunciation. I do not allude to those theorems, the truth of 

joint action is necessary to enable him to recover his balance. The mus- 
cular contractions that were originally isolated come, as it wore, to cling 
together, and take place under a single volition, as when both eyes turn to 
the right or left, or all the fingers of the hand open or shut, by one im- 
pulse.) 



68 ATTENTION. 

which is obvious almost to sense ; such as, that any two sides 
of a triangle are greater than the third side ; or that one circle 
cannot cut another circle in more than two points ; but to some 
propositions with respect to quantity, considered abstractly, (to 
some, for example, in the fifth book of Euclid,) which almost 
every student would be ready to admit without a demonstration. 
These propositions, however, do by no means belong to the class 
of axioms ; for their evidence does not strike every person 
equally, but requires a certain degree of quickness to perceive 
it. At the same time, it frequently happens, that although we 
are convinced the proposition is true, we cannot state immedi- 
ately to others upon what our conviction is founded. In such 
cases, I think it highly probable, that before we give our assent 
to the theorem, a process of thought has passed through the mind, 
but has passed through it so quickly, that ive cannot, without dif- 
ficulty, arrest our ideas in their rapid succession, and state them 
to others in their proper and logical order. It is some confirma- 
tion of this theory, that there are no propositions of which it is 
more difficult to give a legitimate proof from first principles, 
than of those which are only removed a few steps from the class 
of axioms ; and that those men who are the most remarkable 
for their quick perception of mathematical 'truth, are seldom 
clear and methodical in communicating their knowledge to 
others. A man of a moderate degree of quickness, the very 
first time he is made acquainted with the fundamental principles 
of the method of fluxions, or of the method of prime and ulti- 
mate ratios, is almost instantaneously satisfied of their truth ; 
yet how difficult is it to demonstrate these principles rigor- 
ously ! 

What I have now said with respect to mathematics, may be 
applied in a great measure to the other branches of knowledge. 
How many questions daily occur to us, in morals, in politics, and 
in common life ; in considering which we almost instantaneously 
6ee where the truth lies, although we are not in a condition, all 
at once, to explain the grounds of our conviction ! Indeed, I 
apprehend, there are few, even among those who have devoted 
themselves to study, but whD have not been habituated to com- 



ATTENTION. 69 

municate their knowledge to others, who are able to exhibit, in 
their natural order, the different steps of any investigation by 
which they have been led to form a particular conclusion. The 
common observation, therefore, that an obscure elocution always 
indicates an imperfect knowledge of the subject; although it 
may perhaps be true with respect to men who have cultivated 
the art of speaking, is by no means to be relied on as a general 
rule, in judging of the talents of those whose speculations have 
been carried on with a view merely to their own private satis- 
faction. 

In the course of my own experience, I have heard of more 
than one instance, of men who, without any mathematical edu- 
cation, were able, on a little reflection, to give a solution of any 
simple algebraical problem ; and who, at the same time, were 
perfectly incapable of explaining by what steps they obtained 
the result.* In these cases, we have a direct proof of the pos- 
sibility of investigating even truths which are pretty remote, by 
an intellectual process which, as soon as it is finished, vanished 
almost entirely from the memory. It is probable, that some- 
thing of the same kind takes place much more frequently in the 
other branches of knowledge, in which our reasonings consist 
commonly but of a few steps. Indeed, I am inclined to think, 
that it is in this way that by far the greater part of our specula- 
tive conclusions are formed. 

There is no talent, I apprehend, so essential to a public 
speaker, as to be able to state clearly every different step of 
those trains of thought by which he himself was led to the con- 
clusions he wishes to establish. Much may be here done by 
study and experience. Even in those cases in which the truth 
of a proposition seems to strike us instantaneously, although we 
may not be able, at first, to discover the media of proof, we sel- 
dom fail in the discovery by perseverance. Nothing contributes 
so much to form this talent as the study of metaphysics ; not 



* [Prodigies of arithmetical ability, like Buxton and Zerah Colburn, 
have usually been found incapable of explaining the processes by which 
they performed their computations with such marvellous quickness.) 



70 ATTENTION. 

the absurd metaphysics of the schools, but that study which has 
the operations of the mind for its object. By habituating us to 
reflect on the subjects of our consciousness, it enables us to re- 
tard, in a considerable degree, the current of thought ; to arrest 
many of those ideas, which would otherwise escape our notice ; 
and to render the arguments which we employ for the convic- 
tion of others, an exact transcript of those trains of inquiry and 
reasoning, which originally led us to form our opinions. 

These observations lead me to take notice of an important 
distinction between the intellectual habits of men of speculation 
and of action. The latter, who are under a necessity of 
thinking and deciding on the spur of the occasion, are led to 
cultivate, as much as possible, a quickness in their mental opera- 
tions ; and sometimes acquire it in so great a degree, that their 
judgment seems to be almost intuitive. To those, on the other 
hand, who have not merely to form opinions for themselves, but 
to communicate them to others, it is necessary to retard the 
train of thought as it passes in the mind, so as to be able after- 
wards to recollect every different step of the process ; a habit 
which, in some cases, has such an influence on the intellectual 
powers, that there are men who, even in their private specula- 
tions, not only make use of words as an instrument of thought, 
but form these words into regular sentences. 

Contributions of philology to philosophy. — It may perhaps 
appear, at first, a paradoxical observation, that one great em- 
ployment of philosophers, in a refined age, is to bring to light 
and arrange those rapid and confused trains of thought, which 
appear, from the structure of languages and from the monu- 
ments of ancient laws and governments, to hare passed through 
the minds of men in the most remote and unenlightened periods. 
In proof, however, of this, it is sufficient to mention the sys- 
tematical analogy which we find, to a certain degree, running 
through the structure of the most imperfect tongues, (for exam- 
ple, in the formation of the different parts of the verbs,) and 
those general principles which the philosophical lawyer traces 
amidst an apparent chaos of precedents and statutes. In the 
language, too, of the rudest tribe, we find words transferred from 



ATTENTION. 71 

one subject to another, which indicate, in the mind of the indi- 
vidual who first made the transference, some perception of re- 
semblance or of analog}'. Such transferences can hardly be 
ascribed to accident, but may be considered as proofs that the 
analogies, which the philosopher afterwards points out between 
the objects which are distinguished by the same name, had been 
perceived by the inventors of language, although it is more than 
probable that they never expressed them in words, nor could 
even have explained them if they had been questioned on the 
subject. 

Nor will this appear a bold or incredible supposition, if we 
reflect on the sagacity and ingenuity which savages, and even 
peasants, discover, in overcoming the difficulties which occur in 
their situation. They do not, indeed, engage in long processes 
of abstract reasoning, for which they have no inclination, and 
which it is impossible to carry on without the use of a cultivated 
and a copious language ; but when pressed by present circum- 
stances, they combine means to accomplish particular ends, in a 
manner which indicates the exercise both of invention and of 
reasoning. It is probable that such processes are carried on in 
their minds, with much less assistance from language, than a 
philosopher would derive on a similar occasion ; and it is almost 
certain, that they would find themselves perfectly incapable of 
communicating to others the steps by which they were led to 
their conclusions. In consequence of these circumstances, the 
attainments of the human mind, in its ruder state, perish with 
the individual, without being recorded in writing, or perhaps 
expressed in words ; and we are left to infer them indirectly 
from the structure of language, or from the monuments of an- 
cient customs and institutions. 

What trains of thought are most difficult to be remembered. — 
"When a train of thought leads to any interesting conclusion, or 
excites any pleasant feeling, it becomes peculiarly difficult to ar- 
rest our fleeting ideas ; because the mind, when once it has felt 
the pleasure, has little inclination to retrace the steps by which 
it arrived at it. This is one great cause of the difficulty attending 
philosophical criticism. When a critic explains to us why we 



72 ATTENTION. 

are pleased with any particular beauty, or offended with any 
defect, it is evident, that if his theory be just, the circumstances 
which he points out as the foundation of our pleasure or uneasi- 
ness, must have occurred to our minds before we were pleased 
with the beauty, or offended with the defect. In such cases, it 
sometimes happens, when a critic has been fortunate in his the- 
ory, that we recognize at first sight our old ideas, and without 
any further consideration, are ready to bear testimony to the 
truth, from our ow r n consciousness. So very difficult, however, 
is it to attend to the ideas which excite such feelings, that it 
often appears to be doubtful, whether a theory be right or 
wrong ; and that where there is every reason to believe that 
the pleasure is produced in all men in the same way, different 
critics adopt different theories with respect to its cause. It is 
long practice alone, joined to what is commonly called a meta- 
physical turn of mind, (by which, I think, is chiefly to be under- 
stood a capacity of reflecting on the subjects of our conscious- 
ness,) that can render such efforts of attention easy. Exquisite 
sensibility, so far from being useful in this species of criticism, 
both gives a disrelish for the study, and disqualifies for pursu- 
ing it. 

Inability to attend to more than one thing at once. — Before 
we leave the subject of attention, it is proper to take notice of a 
question which has been stated with respect to it ; whether we 
have the power of attending to more than one thing at one and 
the same instant ; or, in other words, whether we can attend at 
one and the same instant to objects which we can attend to sep- 
arately ? This question has, if I am not mistaken, been already 
decided by several philosophers in the negative ; and I ac- 
knowledge for my own part, that although their opinion has not 
only been called in question by others, but even treated with 
some degree of contempt as altogether hypothetical, it appears 
to me to be the most reasonable and philosophical that we can 
form on the subject. 

There is, indeed, a great variety of cases, in which the mind 
apparently exerts different acts of attention at once ; but from 
the instances which have already been mentioned, of the as ton- 



ATTENTION. 73 

ishing rapidity of thought, it is obvious, that all this may be ex- 
plained without supposing these acts to be coexistent ; and I 
may even venture to add, it may all be explained in the most 
satisfactory manner, without ascribing to our intellectual opera- 
tions a greater degree of rapidity than that with which we know, 
from the fact, that they are sometimes carried on. The effect 
of practice, in increasing this capacity of apparently attending to 
different things at once, renders this explanation of the phenom- 
enon in question more probable than any other. 

The case of the equilibrist and rope-dancer, already mentioned, 
is particularly favorable to this explanation ; as it affords direct 
evidence of the possibility of the mind's exerting different suc- 
cessive acts in an interval of time so short, as to produce the 
same sensible effect as if they had been exerted at one and the 
same moment. In this case, indeed, the rapidity of thought is 
so remarkable, that if the different acts of the mind were not all 
necessarily accompanied with different movements of the eye, 
there can be no reason for doubting that the philosophers, whose 
doctrine I am now controverting, would have asserted, that they 
are all mathematically coexistent. 

Upon a question, however, of this sort, which does not admit 
of a perfectly direct appeal to the fact, I would by no means be 
understood to decide with confidence ; and therefore I should 
wish the conclusions I am now to state, to be received as only 
conditionally established. They are necessary and obvious con- 
sequences of the general principle, " that the mind can only at- 
tend to one thing at once;" but must stand or fall with the 
truth of that supposition. 

Illustrations of this doctrine. — It is commonly understood, I 
believe, that, in a concert of music, a good ear can attend to the 
different parts of the music separately, or can attend to them all 
at once, and feel the full effect of the harmony. If the doctrine, 
however, which I have endeavored to establish, be admitted, it 
will follow, that in the latter case, the mind is constantly vary- 
ing its attention from the one part of the music to the other, and 
that its operations are so rapid as to give us no perception of 
an interval of time. 

7 



74 ATTENTION. 

The same doctrine leads to some cur j conclusions with re- 
spect to vision. Suppose the eye to be fixed in a particular 
position, and the picture of an object to be painted on the retina. 
Does the mind perceive the complete figure of the object at 
once, or is this perception the result of the various perceptions 
we have of the different points in the outline ? With respect 
to this question, the principles already stated lead me to con- 
clude, that the mind does, at one and the same time, perceive 
every point in the outline of the object, (provided the whole of 
it be painted on the retina at the same instant ;) for perception, 
like consciousness, is an involuntary operation. As no two 
points, however, of the outline are in the same direction, every 
point, by itself, constitutes just as distinct an object of attention 
to the mind, as if it were separated by an interval of empty 
space from all the rest. If the doctrine, therefore, formerly 
stated be just, it is impossible for the mind to attend to more 
than one of these points at once ; and as the perception of the 
figure of the object implies a knowledge of the relative situa- 
tion of the different points with respect to each other, we must 
conclude that the perception of figure by the eye is the result 
of a number of different acts of attention. These acts of atten- 
tion, however, are performed with such rapidity, that the effect, 
with respect to us, is the same as if the perception were instan- 
taneous. 

In further confirmation of this reasoning, it may be remarked, 
that if the perception of visible figure were an immediate con- 
sequence of the picture on the retina, we should have, at the 
first glance, as distinct an idea of a figure of a thousand sides, 
as of a triangle or a square. The truth is, that when the figure 
is very simple, the process of the mind is so rapid, that the per- 
ception seems to be instantaneous ; but when the sides are mul- 
tiplied beyond a certain number, the interval of time necessary 
for these different acts of attention becomes perceptible. 

It may perhaps be asked, what I mean by a point in the out- 
line of a figure, and what it is that constitutes this point one ob- 
ject of attention ? The answer, I apprehend, is, that this point 



ATTENTION. 75 

is the minimum visibile. If the point be less, we cannot per- 
ceive it ; if it be greater, it is not all seen in one direction. 

If these observations be admitted, it will follow, that, without 
, the faculty of memory, we could have had no perception of vis- 
ible figure.* • 

* I have been accused of overlooking, in the preceding Chapter, a very 
important distinction between Voluntary and Involuntary attention.. In 
some cases, (it is said,) attention attaches itself spontaneously to its object. 
In others, it requires a painful effort to keep it steady, — nay, when we will 
to fix it on one subject, we find it perpetually wandering to another. The 
fact on which the criticism is founded must unquestionably be admitted, 
but the conclusion drawn from it is nevertheless erroneous. It proceeds 
on a vague use of the words voluntary and involuntary. These words, as 
well as the substantive will, are often, but very inaccurately, employed to 
express a general purpose or intention, as well as that state of mind which is 
the immediate antecedent of action. Thus, if I resolve to keep my eyes 
steadily open, I may, according to common modes of speech, be said to 
will to keep them open, and if in consequence of some sudden alarm, I 
should depart from my purpose, the winking of my eyelids may be said to 
be involuntary. And yet, in strict philosophical propriety, the winking of 
my eyelids is an act purely voluntary ; an operation which I will to per- 
form, in consequence of the effect which my alarm has to banish my gen- 
eral purpose or resolution from my mind. The case is perfectly parallel 
with respect to attention. When I am anxious to attend to a particular 
subject, I am apt to say that I will to attend to it, and when I forget my 
purpose, that my inattention is involuntary; whereas the fact is, that the 
unintended distraction, like the unintended winking of the eyelids, was th>3 
effect of a particular volition of the mind, exerted in consequence of a mo- 
mentary forgetfulness of my general purpose. Indeed, to those who are at 
all accustomed to precision in the use of language, the phrase involuntary 
attention must appear a manifest contradiction in terms. 

[Stewart is mistaken in supposing that the winking of the eyelids is 
always, or even generally, a voluntary act. Physiologists are now agreed 
that, most frequently, it is as involuntary as sneezing, or coughing from 
irritation of the larynx. Recent discoveries have established the existence 
of what is called the reflex action of the nerves, by which, without any sen- 
sation being communicated to the brain, and consequently without any ef- 
fort of the will, an impression made upon the end of a nerve is transmitted 
to the spinal cord, and thence sent back again, as it were, along one of the 
motor nerves to its extremity, producing there a contraction of the nerves 
and the requisite movement of the limb or organ. Isolate this pair of 
nerves entirely, by cutting off its communication, not only with the head, 



7G CONCEPTION. 



CHAPTER II . 

OF CONCEPTION. 

Office of Conception. — By conception, I mean that power 
of the mind, which enables it to form a notion of an absent ob- 
ject of perception ; or of a sensation which it has formerly felt. 
I do not contend that this is exclusively the proper meaning of 
the word, but I think that the faculty which I have now defined, 
deserves to be distinguished by an appropriated name. 

Conception is often confounded with other powers. When a 
painter makes a picture of a friend, who is absent or dead, 
he is commonly said to paint from memory ; and the expres- 
sion is sufficiently correct for common conversation. But in an 
analysis of the mind, there is -ground for a distinction. The 
power of conception enables him to make the features of his 
friend an object of thought, so as to copy the resemblance ; the 
power of memory recognizes these features as a former object 
of perception. Every act of memory includes an idea of the 
past ; conception implies no idea of time whatever.* 

According to this view of the matter, the word conception cor~ 
responds to what was called by the schoolmen simple apprehen- 
sion ; with this difference only, that they included, under this 
name, our apprehension of general propositions; whereas I 



but with the upper and lower portions of the spinal column, reserving only 
a segment of this column to connect the excitor with the motor nerve, and 
the reflex movement may still be produced. Thus, when the mucous 
membrane of the nose is irritated, sneezing follows in spite of any effort 
of the will to prevent it. Winking takes place involuntarily, whenever an 
object comes suddenly near or before the eyes, or when water needs to be 
carried off through the tear passage.] 

* Shakspeare calls this power " the mind's eye." 

Hamlet. — " My father ! Methinks I see my father. 

Horatio. — " Where, my Lord 1 

Hamlet. — "In my mind's eye, Horatio." — Act i. Scene 4.. 



CONCEPTION. 77 

should wish to limit the application of the word conception to 
our sensations, and the objects of our perceptions. Dr. Reid, 
in his Inquiry, substitutes the word conception instead of the 
simple apprehension of the schools, and employs it in the same 
extensive signification. I think it may contribute to make our 
ideas more distinct, to restrict its meaning: — and for such a 
restriction, we have the authority of philosophers in a case per- 
fectly analogous. In ordinary language, we apply the same 
word, perception, to the knowledge which we have by our senses 
of external objects, and to our knowledge of speculative truth : 
and yet an author would be justly censured, who should treat 
of these two operations of the mind under the same article of 
perception. I apprehend there is as wide a difference between 
the conception of a truth, and the conception of an absent object 
of sense, as between the perception of a tree, and the perception 
of a mathematical theorem. I have therefore taken the liberty 
to distinguish also the two former operations of the mind ; and 
under the article of conception, shall confine myself to that fac- 
ulty whose province it is to enable us to form a notion of our 
past sensations, or of the objects of sense that we have formerly 
perceived* 

* [Stewart, who is a strict Nominalist, maintains that we can form a 
conception only of an individual object that can be perceived by the senses, 
— as of a particular home or tree. Reid and all other metaphysicians, ex- 
cept the Nominalists, maintain that we may have conceptions also of what 
abstract and general terms stand for ; that is, they say we can apprehend 
the meaning of such words as wisdom, virtue, courage, etc., and also of trian- 
gle, man, tiger, — understanding thereby, not any particular triangle, or 
man, but the general idea answering to any or all triangles, any or all men, 
etc. If we did not apprehend their meaning, we could not argue about 
them, or use their names intelligibly. But the doctrine of the Nominalists 
is, that when we use these abstract, general terms, the mere words are our 
only objects of thought, and that we limit and fix the meaning of those 
words by calling up, when necessary, the image or conception of a partic- 
ular thing comprehended under them. If I speak of a triangle in general 
and wish to have something more definite before the mind than the mera 
word " triangle," they say that I call up the image of some particular tri- 
angle, and limit my attention, in considering it, to those qualities which it 
possesses in common with all triangles. According to the Nominalist*, 

7* 



78 CONCEPTION. 

Conception distinguished from Imagination. — Conception is 
frequently used as synonymous with imagination. Dr. Reid 
says, that " imagination, in its proper sense, signifies a lively 
conception of objects of sight" " This is a talent," he remarks, 
" of importance to poets and orators ; and deserves a proper 
name, on account of its connection with their arts." He adds, 
that "imagination is distinguished from conception as a part 
from the whole." 

I shall not inquire at present into the proper English mean- 
ing of the words conception and imagination. In a study such 
as this, so far removed from common purposes of speech, some 
latitude may perhaps be allowed in the use of words ; provided 
only we define accurately those we employ, and adhere to our 
own definitions. 

The business of conception, according to the account I have 
given of it, is to present us with an exact transcript of what we 
have felt or perceived. But we have, moreover, a power of 
modifying our conceptions, by combining the parts of different 
ones together, so as to form new wholes of our own creation. 
I shall employ the word imagination to express this power ; 
and, I apprehend, that this is the proper sense of the word, if 
imagination be the power which gives birth to the productions 
of the poet and the painter. This is not a simple faculty of the 
mind. It presupposes abstraction, to separate from each other 
qualities and circumstances which have been perceived in con- 
junction ; and also judgment and taste, to direct us in forming 
the combinations. If they are made wholly at random, they 
are proofs of insanity.* 

then, the only objects of thought are (1.) mere words, and (2.) the concep- 
tions of particular, material objects, such as can be imaged or pictured forth 
in the fancy. Eeid and the Conceptualists maintain, that there are also 
(3.) conceptions of abstract and general things, — conceptions which are 
more definite than mere words, but less definite than images or pictures 
of particular objects. 

But these differences of opinion between the Nominalists, Realists, and 
Conceptualists, will be explained more fully hereafter. 1 

* In common discourse, we often use the phrase of thinking upon an object, 
to express what I here call the conception of it. In the following passage 



CONCEPTION. 79 

Some objects i re conceived more easily than others. — The first 
remarkable fad which strikes us with respect to conception is, 
that we can conceive the objects of some senses much more 
easily than those of others. Thus we can conceive an absent 
visible object, such as a building that is familiar to us, much 
more easily than a particular sound, a particular taste, or a par- 
ticular pain, which we have formerly felt. It is probable, how- 
ever, that this power might be improved in the case of some of our 
senses. Few people, I believe, are able to form a very distinct 
conception of sounds ; and yet it is certain, that by practice, a 
person may acquire a power of amusing himself with reading 
written music. And in the case of poetical numbers, it is uni- 
versally known, that a reader may enjoy the harmony of the 
verse, without articulating the words, even in a whisper. In 
such cases, I take for granted, that our pleasure arises from a 
very strong conception of the sounds which we have been accus- 
tomed to associate with particular written characters. 

Why visible objects are easily conceived. The peculiarity in 
the case of visible objects, seems to arise from this ; that when 
we think of a sound or of a taste, the object of our conception 
is one single detached sensation ; whereas every visible object is 
complex ; and the conception which we form of it as a whole 
is aided by the Association of Ideas. To perceive the force of 
this observation, it is necessary to recollect what was formerly 
said on the subject of attention. As we cannot at one instant 
attend to every point of the picture of an object on the retina, 



Shakspeare uses the former of these phrases, and the words imagination 
and apprehension as synonymous with each other. 

Who can hold a fire in his hand, 

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
By bare imagination of a feast 1 
Or wallow naked in December's snow, 
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? 
Oh no ! the apprehension of the good 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. 

K. Richard II. Act i Scene 6. 



80 CONCEPTION. 

so, I apprehend, we cannot at one instant form a conception of 
the whole of any visible object ; but that our conception of 
the object as a whole, is the result of many conceptions. The 
association of ideas connects the different parts together, and 
presents them to the mind in their proper arrangement ; and 
the various relations which these parts bear to one another in 
point of situation, contribute greatly to strengthen the associa- 
tions. It is some confirmation of this theory, that it is more 
easy to remember a succession of sounds, than any particular 
sound which we have heard detached and unconnected. 

The power of conceiving visible objects, like all other powers 
that depend on the association of ideas, may be wonderfully 
improved by habit. A person accustomed to drawing retains 
a much more perfect notion of a building or of a landscape 
which he has seen, than one who has never practised that art. 
A portrait painter traces the form of the human body from 
memory, with as little exertion of attention, as he employs in 
writing the letters which compose his name. 

In the power of conceiving colors, too, there are striking dif- 
ferences among individuals : and, indeed, I am inclined to sus- 
pect, that, in the greater number of instances, the supposed 
defects of sight in this respect ought to be ascribed rather to a 
defect in the power of conception. One thing is certain, that 
we often see men who are perfectly sensible of the difference 
between two colors when they are presented to them, who can- 
not give names to these colors, with confidence, when they see 
them apart ; and are perhaps apt to confound the one with the 
other. Such men, it should seem, feel the sensation of color 
like other men, when the object is present, but are incapable 
(probably in consequence of some early habit of inattention) to 
•.onceive the sensation distinctly when the object is removed. 
Without this power of conception, it is evidently impossible for 
them, however lively their sensations may be, to give a name 
to any color ; for the application of the name supposes not only 
a capacity of receiving the sensation, but a power of comparing 
it with one formerly felt. At the same time, I would not be 
understood by these observations to deny, that there are cases, 



CONCEPTION. 81 

in which there is a natural defect of the organ in the perception 
of color. In some cases, perhaps, the sensation is not felt at all ; 
and in others, the faintness of the sensation may be one cause 
of those habits of inattention, from which the incapacity of con 
ception has arisen. 

What uses the power of conception is subservient to. — A 
talent for lively description, at least in the case of sensible ob- 
jects, depends chiefly on the degree in which the describer 
possesses the power of conception. We may remark, even in 
common conversation, a striking difference among individuals 
in this respect. One man, in attempting to convey a notion of 
any object he has seen, seems to place it before him, and to 
paint from actual perception : another, although not deficient in 
a ready elocution, finds himself, in such a situation, confused and 
embarrassed among a number of particulars imperfectly appre- 
hended, which crowd into his mind without any just order and 
connection. Nor is it merely to the accuracy of our descrip- 
tions that this power is subservient : it contributes more than 
any thing else to render them striking and expressive to others, 
by guiding us to a selection of such circumstances as are most 
prominent and characteristical ; insomuch that I think it may 
reasonably be doubted, if a person would not write a happier 
description of an object from the conception than from the actual 
perception of it. It has been often remarked, that the perfection 
of description does not consist in a minute specification of circum- 
stances, but in a judicious selection of them ; and that the best 
rule for making the selection is to attend to the particulars that 
make the deepest impression on our own minds. When the ob- 
ject is actually before us, it is extremely difficult to compare the 
impressions which different circumstances produce ; and the very 
thought of writing a description, would prevent the impressions 
which would otherwise take place. When we afterwards con- 
ceive the object, the representation of it we form to ourselves, 
however lively, is merely an outline ; and is made up of those 
circumstances, which really struck us most at the moment ; 
while others of less importance are obliterated. The impression, 
indeed, which a circumstance makes on the mind, will vary 



82 CONCEPTION. 

considerably with the degree of a person's taste; but I am 
inclined to think, that a man of lively conceptions, who paints 
from these, while his mind is yet warm from the original scene, 
can hardly fail to succeed in descriptive composition. 

Observations applicable both to conception and imagination. — 
The facts and observations which I have now mentioned, are 
applicable to conception as distinguished from imagination. 
The two powers, however, are very nearly allied ; and are fre- 
quently so blended, that it is difficult to say, to which of the 
two some particular operations of the mind are to be referred. 
There are also many general facts which hold equally with 
respect to both. The observations which follow, if they are 
well founded, are of this number, and might have been intro- 
duced with equal propriety under either article. I mention 
them here, as I shall have occasion to refer to them in the 
course of the following work, in treating of some subjects, 
which will naturally occur to our examination, before we have 
another opportunity of considering this part of our constitution. 

On the belief which attends the conception or imagination. — 
It is a common, I believe I may say a universal, doctrine 
among logicians, that conception (or imagination, which is often 
used as synonymous with it) is attended with no belief of the 
existence of its object. " Perception," says Dr. Reid, " is 
attended with a belief of the present existence of its object ; 
memory, with a belief of its past existence ; but imagination is 
attended with no belief at all ; and was therefore called by the 
schoolmen, apprehensio simplex." 

It is with great diffidence, that I presume to call in question 
a principle, which has been so generally received ; yet there 
are several circumstances which lead me to doubt of it. If it 
were a specifical distinction between perception and imagina- 
tion, that the former is always attended with belief, and the lat- 
ter with none ; then the more lively our imagination were of 
any object, and the more completely that object occupied the 
attention, the less would we be apt to believe its existence ; for 
it is reasonable to think, that when any of our powers ia 
employed separately from the rest, and there is nothing to 



CONCEPTION. 83 

withdraw the attention from it, the laws which regulate its ope- 
ration will be most obvious to our observation, and will be 
most completely discriminated from those which are character- 
istical of the other powers of the mind. So very different, 
however, is the fact, that it is matter of common remark, that 
when imagination is very lively, we are apt to ascribe to its 
objects a real existence, as in the case of dreaming or of mad- 
ness ; and we may add, in the case of those who, in spite of 
their own general belief of the absurdity of the vulgar stories 
of apparitions, dare not trust themselves alone with their own 
imaginations in the dark. That imagination is in these in- 
stances attended with belief, we have all the evidence that the 
nature of the thing admits of; for we feel and act in the same 
manner as we should do, if we believed that the objects of our 
attention were real; which is the only proof that metaphysi- 
cians produce, or can produce, of the belief which accompanies 
perception. 

In these cases, the fact that I wish to establish is so striking 
that it has never been called in question ; but in most cases, the 
impression which the objects of imagination make on the mind 
is so momentary, and is so immediately corrected by the sur- 
rounding objects of perception, that it has not time to influence 
our conduct. Hence we are apt to conclude, on a superficial 
view, that imagination is attended with no belief; and the con- 
clusion is surely just in most cases, if by belief we mean & per- 
manent conviction which influences our conduct. But if the 
word be used in the strict logical sense, I am inclined to think, 
after the most careful attention to what I experience in myself, 
that the exercise both of conception and imagination is always 
accompanied with a belief that their objects exist.* 

* One of the arguments which I have stated, in opposition to the com- 
mon doctrine concerning imagination, appears to me to be authorized, in 
some measure, by the following reasoning of Dr. Reid's on a different sub- 
ject. In considering those sudden bursts of passion, which lead us to 
wreak our vengeance upon inanimate objects, he endeavors to show, that 
we have, in such cases, a momentary belief that the object is alive. " I 
confess," says he, "it seems to be impossible, that there should be resent 



84 CONCEPTION. 

When a painter conceives the face and figure of an absent 
friend, in order to draw his picture, he believes for the moment 
that his friend is before him. The belief, indeed, is only mo- 
mentary ; for it is extremely difficult, in our waking hours, to 
keep up a steady and undivided attention to any object we con- 
ceive or imagine ; and as soon as the conception or the imagi- 
nation is over, the belief which attended it is at an end. We 
find that we can recall and dismiss the objects of these powers at 
pleasure ; and therefore we learn to consider them as creations 
of the mind, which have no separate and independent existence. 

The compatibility of such a speculative disbelief, as I have 
here supposed, of the existence of an object, with a contrary mo- 
mentary belief, may perhaps be more readily admitted, if the 
following experiment be considered with attention. 



ment against a thing, which, at that very moment, is considered as inani- 
mate; and consequently incapable either of intending hurt, or of being 
punished. There must, therefore, I conceive, be some momentary notion 
or conception, that the object of our resentment is capable of punishment." 

In another passage, the same author remarks, that " men may be gov- 
erned, in their practice, by a belief, which, in speculation, they reject." 

" I knew a man," says he, "who was as much convinced as any man, 
of the folly of the popular belief of apparitions in the dark : yet he could 
not sleep in a room alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark. Can it 
be said, that his fear did not imply a belief of danger 1 This is impossi- 
ble. Yet his philosophy convinced him, that he was in no more danger 
in the dark when alone, than with company. Here an unreasonable belief, 
which was merely a prejudice of the nursery, stuck so fast as to govern his 
conduct, in opposition to his speculative belief as a philosopher and a man 
of sense. 

" There are few persons who can look down from the battlement of a 
very high tower witbout fear ; while their reason convinces them, that they 
are in no more danger than when standing upon the ground." 

These facts are easily explicable, on the supposition, that whenever the 
objects of imagination engross the attention wholly, (which they may do, 
in opposition to any speculative opinion with respect to their non-exist- 
ence,) they produce a temporary belief of their reality. Indeed, in the 
last passage, Dr. Reid seems to admit this to be the case ; for, to say that 
a man who has a dread of apparitions, believes himself to be in danger 
when left alone in the dark, is to say, in other words, that he believes (for 
the time) that the objects of his imagination are real. 



CONCEPTION. So 

Suppose a lighted candle to be so placed before a concave 
mirror, that the image of the flame may be seen between the 
mirror and the eye of the observer. In this case, a person who 
is acquainted with the principles of optics, or who has seen the 
experiment made before, has so strong a speculative conviction 
)f the non-existence of the object in that place where he sees its 
image, that he would not hesitate to put his finger to the appar- 
ent flame, without any apprehension of injury. 

Suppose, however, that in such a case it were possible for the 
observer to banish completely from his thoughts all the circum- 
stances of the experiment, and to confine his attention wholly 
to his perception ; would he not believe the image to be a real- 
ity ? and would he not expect the same consequences from 
touching it, as from touching a real body in a state of inflamma- 
tion ? If these questions be answered in the affirmative, it will 
follow ; that the effect of the perception, while it engages the at- 
tention completely to itself, is to produce belief; and that the 
speculative disbelief, according to which our conduct in ordinary 
cases is regulated, is the result of a recollection of the various 
circumstances with which the experiment is accompanied. 

If, in such a case as I have now supposed, the appearance 
exhibited to us is of such a nature as to threaten us with any 
immediate danger, the effect is the same as if we were to banish 
from our thoughts the circumstances of the experiment, and to 
limit our attention solely to what we perceive : for here the be- 
lief, which is the first effect of the perception, alarms our fears, 
and influences our conduct, before reflection has time to oper- 
ate. In a very ingenious optical deception, which was lately 
exhibited in this city, the image of a flower was presented to 
the spectator ; and when he was about to lay hold of it with his 
hand, a stroke was aimed at him by the image of a dagger. If 
a person who has seen this experiment is asked, in his cooler 
moments, whether or not he believes the dagger which he saw 
to be real, he will readily answer in the negative ; and yet the 
accurate statement of the fact undoubtedly is, that the first and 
the proper effect of the perception is belief; and that the disbe- 
lief he feels is the effect of subsequent reflection. 

8 



86 CONCEPTION. 

The speculative disbelief which we feel with respect to the 
illusions of imagination, I conceive to be analogous to our spec- 
ulative disbelief of the existence of the object exhibited to the 
eye in this optical deception ; as our belief that the illusions of 
imagination are real, while that faculty occupied the mind ex- 
clusively, is analogous to the belief produced by the optical 
deception while the attention is limited to our perception, and is 
withdrawn from the circumstances in which the experiment is 
made. 

On the belief which attends perception. — These observations 
lead me to take notice of a circumstance with respect to the be- 
lief accompanying perception, which it appears to me necessary 
to state, in order to render Dr. Reid's doctrine on that subject 
completely satisfactory. He has shown, that certain sensations 
are, by a law of our nature, accompanied with an irresistible 
belief of the existence of certain qualities of external objects. 

But this law extends no further than to the present existence 
of the quality ; that is, to its existence while we feel the corre- 
sponding sensation. Whence is it then, that we ascribe to the 
quality an existence independent of our perception ? I appre- 
hend we learn to do this by experience alone. We find that 
we cannot, as in the case of imagination, dismiss or recall the 
perception of an external object. If I open my eyes, I cannot 
prevent myself from seeing the prospect which is before me. I 
learn, therefore, to ascribe to the objects of my senses, not only 
an existence at the time I perceive them, but an independent 
and a permanent existence. 

In sleep and madness, imagination is fully believed. — It is a 
strong confirmation of this doctrine, that in sleep, when (as I 
shall endeavor afterwards to show) the influence of the will 
over the train of our thoughts is suspended, and when, of con- 
sequence, the time of their continuance in the mind is not regu- 
lated by us, we ascribe to the objects of imagination an inde- 
pendent and permanent existence, as we do when awake to the 
objects of perception. The same thing happens in those kinds of 
madness, in which a particular idea takes possession of the atten< 
tion, and occupies it to the exclusion of every thing else. Indeed, 



CONCEPTION. 87 

madness seems in many cases to arise entirely from a suspension 
of the influence of the will over the succession of our thoughts ; 
in consequence, of which, the objects of imagination appear to 
have an existence independent of our volition ; and are there- 
fore, agreeably to the foregoing doctrine, mistaken for realities. 

Numberless other illustrations of the same general fact occui 
to me ; but the following is, I think, one of the most striking. I 
mention it in preference to the rest, as it appears to me to con- 
nect the doctrine in question with some principles which are 
now universally admitted among philosophers. 

Office of conception in vision. — The distinction between the 
original and the acquired perceptions of sight, is familiarly 
known to every one who has the slightest acquaintance with the 
elements of optics. That this sense, prior to experience, con- 
veys to us the notion of extension in two dimensions only, and 
that it gives us no information concerning the distances at which 
objects are placed from the eye, are propositions which nobody, 
I presume, in the present state of science, will be disposed to 
controvert. In what manner we are enabled, by a comparison 
between the perceptions of sight and those of touch, to extend 
the province of the former sense to a variety of qualities origi- 
nally perceived by the latter sense only, optical writers have 
explained at great length ; but it is not necessary for my pres- 
ent purpose to enter into any particular details with respect to 
their reasonings on the subject. It is sufficient for me to re- 
mark, that, according to the received doctrine, the original per- 
ceptions of sight become, in consequence of experience, signs of 
the tangible qualities of external objects, and of the distances at 
which they are placed from the organ ; and that, although the 
knowledge we obtain, in this manner, of these qualities and dis- 
tances, seems, from early and constant habits, to be an instanta- 
neous perception ; yet, in many cases, it implies an exercise of 
the judgment, being founded on a comparison of a variety of 
different circumstances.* 



* [See note to page 50, respecting the perception of distance by the eye. 
"If a sphere of one uniform color he set before me," says Dr. Reid, "it 



88 CONCEPTION. 

From these principles, it is an obvious consequence, that the 
knowledge we obtain, by the eye, of the tangible qualities of 
bodies, involves the exercise of conception, according to the 
definition of that power which has already been given. In 
ordinary discourse, indeed, we ascribe this knowledge, on 
account of the instantaneousness with which it is obtained, to 
the power of perception ; but if the common doctrine on the 
subject be just, it is the result of a complex operation of the 
mind ; comprehending, first, the perception of those qualities, 
which are the proper and original objects of sight ; and,- 
secondly, the conception of those tangible qualities of which 
the original perceptions of sight are found from experience to 
be the signs. The notions, therefore, we form, by means of the 
eye, of the tangible qualities of bodies, and of the distances of 
these objects from the organ, are mere conceptions ; strongly, 
and indeed indissolubly, associated, by early and constant habit, 
with the original perception of sight. 

When we open our eyes on a magnificent prospect, the 
various distances at which all its different parts are placed 
from the eye, and the immense extent of the whole scene 
before us, seem to be perceived as immediately, and as instan- 
taneously, by the mind, as the colored surface which is painted 
on the retina. The truth, however, unquestionably is, that this 
variety of distance, and this immensity of extent, are not objects 
of sense, but of conception ; and the notions we form of them 
when our eyes are open, differ from those we should form of 



is certain that, by the original power of sight, I could not perceive it to he 
a sphere and to have three dimensions [length, breadth, and thickness]. 
The eye originally could perceive only two dimensions, [length and 
breadth,] and a gradual variation of color on the different sides of the ob- 
ject. It is experience that teaches me that the variation of color is an effect 
of spherical convexity, and of the distribution of light and shade. A 
sphere may be painted upon a plane so exactly as to be taken for a real 
sphere, when the eye is at a proper distance and in the proper point of 
view. The variation of color exhibited to the eye by the painter's art is 
the same which nature exhibits by the different degrees of light falling up- 
on the convex surface of a sphere."] 



CONCEPTION. 89 

them with our eyes shut only in this, that they are kept stead- 
ily in the view of the mind, by being strongly associated with 
the sensations of color, and with the original perceptions of 
sight. This observation will be the more readily admitted, if it 
be considered, that, by a skilful imitation of a natural landscape, 
in a common show-box, the mind may be led to form the same 
notions of variety of distance, and even of immense extent, as 
if the original scene were presented to our senses : and that, 
although, in this case, we have a speculative conviction that the 
sphere of our vision only extends to a few inches ; yet so 
strong is the association between the original perceptions of 
sight, and the conceptions which they habitually produce, that 
it is not possible for us, by an effort of our will, to prevent 
these conceptions from taking place. 

From these observations it appears, that, when the concep- 
tions of the mind are rendered steady and permanent, by being 
strongly associated with any sensible impression, they command 
our belief no less than our actual perceptions ; and, therefore, 
if it were possible for us, with our eyes shut, to keep up, for a 
length of time, the conception of any sensible object, we should, 
as long as this effort continued, believe that the object was 
present to our senses. 

Various phenomena explained upon these principles. — It ap- 
pears to me to be no slight confirmation of these remarks, that 
although, in the dark, the illusions of imagination are much 
more liable to be mistaken for realities, than when their momen- 
tary effects on the belief are continually checked and corrected 
by the objects which the light of day presents to our percep- 
tions ; yet, even total darkness is not so alarming to a person im- 
pressed with the vulgar stories of apparitions, as a faint and 
doubtful twilight, which affords to the conceptions an opportunity 
of fixing and prolonging their existence, by attaching themselves 
to something which is obscurely exhibited to the eye. In like 
manner, when we look through a fog, we are frequently apt to 
mistake a crow for a man ; and the conception we have, upon 
such an occasion, of the human figure, is much more distinct 
and much more steady, than it would be possible for us to form, 

8* 



90 CONCEPTION. 

if we had no sensible object before us ; insomuch that when, on 
a more attentive observation, the crow shrinks to its own dimen- 
sions, we find it impossible, by any effort, to conjure up the 
phantom which a moment before we seemed to perceive. 

If these observations are admitted, the effects which exhibi- 
tions of fictitious distress produce on the mind, will appear less 
wonderful, than they are supposed to be. During the represen- 
tation of a tragedy, I acknowledge, that we have a general con- 
viction that the whole is a fiction ; but, I believe, it will be 
found, that the violent emotions which are sometimes produced 
by the distresses of the stage, take their rise, in most cases, 
from a momentary belief, that the distresses are real. I say, in 
most cases ; because, I acknowledge, that, independently of any 
such belief, there is something contagious in a faithful expres- 
sion of any of the passions. 

The emotions produced by tragedy are, upon this supposition, 
somewhat analogous to the dread we feel when we look down 
from the battlement of a tower.* In both cases, we have a gen- 



* With respect to the dread which we feel in looking down from the 
oattlement of a tower, it is curious to remark the effects of habit in grad- 
ually destroying it. The manner in which habit operates in this case, 
seems to be by giving us a command over our thoughts, so as to enable us 
to withdraw our attention from the precipice before us, and direct it to any 
other object at pleasure. It is thus that the mason and the sailor not only 
can take precautions for their own safety, but remain completely masters 
of themselves, in situations where other men, engrossed with their imagin- 
ary danger, would experience a total suspension of their faculties. Any 
strong passion which occupies the mind, produces, for the moment, the 
same effect with habit. A person alarmed with the apprehension of fire, 
has been 'known to escape from the top of a house by a path, which, at 
another time, he would have considered as impracticable ; and soldiers, in 
mounting a breach, are said to have sometimes found their way to the 
enemy, by a route which appeared inaccessible after their violent passions 
had subsided. 

From the principles which I have endeavoi-ed to establish in this chap- 
ter, may be derived a simple, and I think, a satisfactory, explanation of the 
manner in which superstition, considered in contradistinction to genuine 
religion, operates on the mind. The gloomy phantoms which she presents 
to her vioims in their early infancy ; and which consist chiefly of images 






CONCEPTION. 91 

eral conviction, that there is no ground for the feelings we ex- 
perience ; but the momentary influences of imagination are so 
powerful as to produce these feelings, before reflection has time 
to ^come to our relief. 



or representations of spectres and demons, and of invisible scenes of hor- 
ror, produce their effect, not through the medium of reasoning and judg- 
ment, but of the powers of conception and imagination. No argument is 
alleged to prove their existence ; but strong and lively notions of them are 
conveyed ; and, in proportion as this is done, the belief of them becomes 
steady and habitual. It is even sufficient in many cases, to resist all the 
force of argument to the contrary, or, if it yields to it during the bustle of 
business and the light of day, its influence returns in the hours of solitude 
and darkness. When the mind, too, is weakened by disease, or the infirmi- 
ties of age, and when the attention ceases to be occupied with external ob- 
jects, the thoughts are apt to revert to their first channel, and to dwell on 
the conceptions to which they were accustomed in the nursery. " Let 
custom," says Locke, "from the very childhood, have joined figure and 
shape to the idea of God, and what absurdities will that mind be liable to 
about Deity ! " A person of a lively but somewhat gloomy imagination 
once acknowledged to me, that he could trace some of his superstitious 
impressions with respect to the Deity, to the stern aspect of a judge whom 
he had seen, when a school-boy, pronounce sentence of death upon a crim- 
inal. Hence it would appear, that he who has the power of modelling the 
habitual conceptions of an infant mind, is, in a great measure the arbiter 
of its future happiness or misery. By guarding against the spectres con- 
jured up by superstitious weakness, and presenting to it only images of 
what is good, lovely, and happy, he may secure through life a perpetual 
sunshine to the soul, and may perhaps make some provision against the 
physica} evils to which humanity is exposed. Even in those awful dis- 
eases which disturb the exercise of reason, I am apt to think, that the 
complexion of madness, in point of gayety or of despondency, depends 
much on the nature of our first conceptions : and it would surely be no 
inconsiderable addition to the comfort of any individual to know, that some 
provision had been made by the tender care of his first instructors, to 
lighten the pressure of this greatest of all earthly calamities, if it ever 
should be his lot to bear it. In truth, the only effectual antidote against 
superstitious weakness is to inspire the mind with just and elevated no- 
tions of the administration of the universe ; for we may rest assured, that 
religion, in one form or another, is the natural and spontaneous growth of 
man's intellectual and moral constitution ; and the only question in the 
case of individuals is, whether, under the regulation of an enlightened 
understanding, it is to prove the best solace of life and the surest support 



92 ABSTRACTION. 



CHAPTER IV. 



OF ABSTRACTION. 



I. General Observations on this Faculty of the Mind. 

The origin of general terms. — The origin of appellatives, or, 
in other words, the origin of those classes of objects which, in 
the schools, are called genera and species, has been considered 
by some philosophers as one of the most difficult problems in 
metaphysics. The account of it which is given by Mr. Smith, 
in his dissertation on the Origin of Languages, appears to me 
to be equally simple and satisfactory. 

" The assignation," says he, " of particular names, to denote 
particular objects ; that is, the institution of nouns substantive ; 
would probably be one of the first steps towards the formation 
of language. The particular cave, whose covering sheltered the 
savage from the weather ; the particular tree, whose fruit re- 
lieved his hunger ; the particular fountain, whose water allayed 
his thirst ; would first be denominated by the words, cave, tree, 
fountain; or by whatever other appellations he might think 
proper, in that primitive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, 
when the more enlarged experience of this savage had led him 
to observe, and his necessary occasions obliged him to make 
mention of, other caves, and other trees, and other fountains ; 
he would naturally bestow, upon each of those new objects, the 
same name by which he had been accustomed to express the 
similar object he was first acquainted with. And thus, those 

of virtue, or to be converted, by the influence of prejudices and a diseased 
imagination, into a source of imbecility, inconsistency, and suffering. 



ABSTRACTION. 93 

words, which were originally the proper names of individuals, 
would each of them insensibly become the common name of a 
multitude." 

"It is this application," he continues, "of the name of an in- 
dividual to a great number of objects, whose resemblance natu- 
rally recalls the idea of that individual, and of the name which 
expresses it, that seems originally to have given occasion to the 
formation of those classes, and assortments, which, in the schools, 
are called genera and species ; and of which the ingenious and 
eloquent Rousseau finds himself so much at a loss to account 
for the origin. What constitutes a species, is merely a number 
of objects, bearing a certain degree of resemblance to one an- 
other ; and, on that account, denominated by a single appella- 
tion, which may be applied to express any one of them." 

This view of the natural progress of the mind, in forming 
classifications of external objects, receives some illustration 
from a fact mentioned by Captain Cook, in his account of a 
small island called Wateeoo, which he visited in sailing from 
New Zealand to the Friendly Islands. " The inhabitants," says 
he, " were afraid to come near our cows and horses, nor did they 
form the least conception of their nature. But the sheep and 
goats did not surpass the limits of their ideas ; for they gave us 
to understand that they knew them to be birds. It will appear," 
he adds, " rather incredible, that human ignorance could ever 
make so strong a mistake, there not being the most distant simil- 
itude between a sheep or goat, and any winged animal. But 
these people seemed to know nothing of the existence of any 
other land animals, besides hogs, dogs, and birds. Our sheep 
and goats, they could see, were very different creatures from 
the two first, and therefore they inferred that they must belong 
to the latter class, in which they knew that there is a considera- 
ble variety of species." I would add to Cook's very judicious 
remarks, that the mistake of these islanders probably did not 
arise from their considering a sheep or a goat as bearing a 
more striking resemblance to a bird, than to the two classes of 
quadrupeds with which they were acquainted ; but to the want 
of a generic word, such as quadruped, comprehending these two 



94 ABSTRACTION. 

species ; which men in their situation would no more be led to 
form, than a person who had only seen one individual of each 
species, would think of an appellative to express both, instead 
of applying a proper name to each. In consequence of the 
variety of birds, it appears, that they had a generic name com- 
prehending all of them, to which it was not unnatural for them 
to refer any new animal they met with. 

The process of abstraction explained. — The classification of 
different objects supposes a power of attending to some of their 
qualities or attributes, without attending to the rest ; for no two 
objects are to be found without some specific difference ; and no 
assortment or arrangement can be formed among things not 
perfectly alike, but by losing sight of their distinguishing pecu- 
liarities, and limiting the attention to those attributes which be- 
long to them in common. Indeed, without this power of attend- 
ing separately to things which our senses present to us in a state 
of union, we never could have had any idea of number ; for, be- 
fore we can consider different objects as forming a multitude, it 
is necessary that we should be able to apply to all of them one 
common name ; or, in other words, that we should reduce them 
all to the same genus. The various objects, for example, ani- 
mate and inanimate, which are, at this moment before me, I may 
class and number in a variety of different ways, according to the 
view of them that I choose to take. I may reckon successively 
the number of sheep, of cows, of horses, of elms, of oaks, of 
beeches ; or I may first reckon the number of animals, and then 
the number of trees ; or I may first reckon the number of all 
the organized substances which my senses present to me. But 
whatever be the principle on which my classification proceeds, 
it is evident that the objects numbered together must be consid- 
ered in those respects only in which they agree with each other ; 
and that, if I had no power of separating the combinations of 
sense, I never could have conceived them as forming a plurality. 

This power of considering certain qualities or attributes of an 
object apart from the rest ; or, as I would rather choose to define 
it, the power which the understanding has of separating the com- 
binations which are presented to it, is distinguished by logicians 



ABSTRACTION. 95 

by the name of abstraction. It has been supposed, by some phi- 
losophers, (with what probability I shall not now inquire,) to 
form the characteristical attribute of a rational nature. That it 
is one of the most important of all our faculties, and very inti- 
mately connected with the exercise of our reasoning powers, is 
beyond dispute. 

Usefulness of the power of abstraction. — The subserviency of 
abstraction to the power of reasoning, and also its subserviency 
to the exertions of a poetical or creative imagination, shall be 
afterwards fully illustrated. At present, it is sufficient for my 
purpose to remark, that as abstraction is the groundwork of 
classification, without this faculty of the mind we should have 
been perfectly incapable of general speculation, and all our 
knowledge must necessarily have been limited to individuals ; 
and that some of the most useful branches of science, particu- 
larly the different branches of mathematics, in which the very 
subjects of our reasoning are abstractions of the understanding, 
could never have possibly had an existence. With respect to 
the subserviency of this faculty to poetical imagination, it is no 
less obvious, that, as the poet is supplied with all his materials 
by experience, and as his province is limited to combine and 
modify things which really exist, so as to produce new wholes 
of his own ; so, every exertion which he thus makes of his pow- 
ers, presupposes the exercise of abstraction in decomposing and 
separating actual combinations. And it was on this account 
that, in the chapter on conception, I was led to make a distinc- 
tion between that faculty, which is evidently simple and unconi- 
pounded, and the power of imagination, which (at least in the 
sense in which I employ the word in these inquiries) is the re- 
sult of a combination of various other powers. 

I have introduced these remarks, in order to point out a dif- 
ference between the abstractions which are subservient to rea- 
soning, and those which are subservient to imagination. And, 
if I am not mistaken, it is a distinction which has not been suf- 
ficiently attended to by some writers of eminence. In every 
instance in which imagination is employed in forming new 
wholes, by decompounding and combining the conceptions of 



96 ABSTRACTION. 

sense, it is evidently necessary that the poet or the painter 
should be able to state to himself the circumstances abstracted, 
as separate objects of conception. But this is by no means re- 
quisite in every case in which abstraction is subservient to the 
power of reasoning ; for it frequently happens, that we can rea- 
son concerning one quality or property of an object abstracted 
from the rest, while, at the same time, we find it impossible to con- 
ceive it separately. Thus, I can reason concerning extension 
and figure, without any reference to color ; although it may be 
doubted, if a person possessed of sight can make extension and 
figure steady objects of conception, without connecting with 
them one color or another. Nor is this always owing (as it is 
in the instance now mentioned) merely to the association of 
ideas ; for there are cases, in which we can reason concerning 
things separately, which it is impossible for us to suppose any 
being so constituted as to conceive apart. Thus, we can reason 
concerning length, abstracted from any other dimension; al- 
though, surely, no understanding can make length, without 
breadth, an object of conception. And, by the way, this leads 
me to take notice of an error, which mathematical teachers are 
apt to commit, in explaining the first principles of geometry. 
By dwelling long on Euclid's first definitions, they lead the stu- 
dent to suppose that they relate to notions which are extremely 
mysterious; and to strain his powers in fruitless attempts to 
conceive, what cannot possibly be made an object of conception. 
If these definitions were omitted, or very slightly touched upon, 
and the attention at once directed to geometrical reasonings, the 
student would immediately perceive, that although the lines in 
the diagrams are really extended in two dimensions, yet that 
the demonstrations relate only to one of them ; and that the hu- 
man understanding has the faculty of reasoning concerning 
things separately, which are always presented to us, both by 
our powers of perception and conception, in a state of union. 
Such abstractions, in truth, are familiar to the most illiterate of 
mankind ; and it is in this very way that they are insensibly 
formed. When a tradesman speaks of the length of a room, in 
contradistinction to its breadth ; or when he sp.eaks of the dis- 



A.BSTRACTIOX. 97 

tance between any two objects, he forms exactly the same ab- 
straction which is referred to by Euclid in his second definition, 
a^nd which most of his commentators have thought it necessary 
to illustrate by prolix metaphysical disquisitions. 

Abstraction is possible without generalization. — I shall only 
observe further with respect to the nature and province of this 
faculty of the mind, that notwithstanding its essential subservi- 
ency to every act of classification, yet it might have been exer- 
cised, although we had only been acquainted with one individ- 
ual object. Although, for example, we had never seen but one 
rose, we might stil 1 ha ye been able to attend to its color, with- 
out thinking of its other properties. This has led some philos- 
ophers to suppose, that another faculty besides abstraction, to 
which they have given the name of generalization, is necessary 
to account for the formation of genera and species ; and they 
have endeavored to show, that although generalization without 
abstraction is impossible, yet that we might have been so formed 
as to be able to abstract without being capable of generalizing. 
The grounds of this opinion it is not necessary for me to exam- 
ine, for any of the purposes which I have at present in view.* 

II. Of the Objects of our Thoughts, when we employ general 
terms. Further consideration of the ideal theory. — From the 



* The words abstraction and generalization are commonly, but improp- 
erly, used as synonymous : and the same inaccuracy is frequently commit- 
ted in speaking of abstract or general ideas, as if the two expressions were 
convertible. A person who had never seen but one rose (it has been al- 
ready remarked) might yet have been able to consider its color apart from 
its other qualities ; and therefore, (to express myself in conformity to com- 
mon language,) there may be such a thing as an idea which is at once ab- 
stract and particular. After having perceived this quality as belonging to 
a variety of individuals, we can consider it without reference to any of them, 
and thus form the notion of redness or whiteness in general, which may be 
called a general abstract idea. These words abstract and general, therefore, 
when applied to ideas, are as completely distinct from each other as any 
two words to be found in the language. 

It is indeed true, that the formation of every general notion presupposes 
abstraction ; but it is surely improper on this account, to call a general 
term an abstract term, or a general idea an abstract idea. 

9 



98 ABSTRACTION. 

account which was given in a former chapter of th .omm' n 
theories of perception, it appears to have been a prevailing 
opinion among philosophers, that the qualities of external ob- 
jects are perceived by means of images or species transmitted 
to the mind by the organs of sense ; an opinion of which I al- 
ready endeavored to trace the origin, from certain natural preju- 
dices suggested by the phenomena of the material world. The 
same train of thinking has led them to suppose, that, in the case 
of all our other intellectual operations, there exist in the mind 
certain ideas distinct from the mind itself; and that these ideas 
are the objects about which our thoughts are employed. When 
I recollect, for example, the appearance of an absent friend, it 
is supposed that the immediate object of my thoughts is an idea 
of my friend, which I at first received by my senses, and which 
I have been enabled to retain in the mind by the faculty of 
memory. When I form to myself any imaginary combination 
by an effort of poetical invention, it is supposed, in like manner, 
that the parts which I combine, existed previously in the mind, 
and furnish the materials on which it is the province of imagi- 
nation to operate. It is to Dr. Reid we owe the important re- 
mark, that all these notions are wholly hypothetical ; that it is 
impossible to produce a shadow of evidence in support of them ; 
and that, even although we were to admit their truth, they would 
not render the phenomena in question more intelligible. Ac- 
cording to his principles, therefore, we have no ground for sup- 
posing, that, in any one operation of the mind, there exists in it 
an object distinct from the mind itself; and all the common ex- 
pressions which involve such a supposition, are to be considered 
as unmeaning circumlocutions, which serve only to disguise 
from us the real history of the intellectual phenomena.* 

* In order to prevent misapprehensions of Dr. Reid's meaning in his rea- 
sonings against the ideal theory, it may be necessary to explain, a little 
more full) than I have done in the text, in what sense he calls in question 
the existence of ideas ; for the meaning which the word is employed to con- 
vey in popular discourse, differs widely from that which is annexed to it 
by the philosophers whose opinion he controverts. This explanation 1 
shall give in his own words : — 



ABSTRACTION. 99 

u We are at a loss to know," says this excellent philosopher, 
w how we perceive distant objects ; how we remember things 
past ; how we imagine things that have no existence. Ideas in 
the mind seem to account for all these operations ; they are all 
by the means of ideas reduced to one operation ; to a kind of 
feeling, or immediate perception of things present, and in con- 
tact with the percipient ; and feeling is an operation so familiar, 
that we think it needs no explanation, but may serve to explain 
other operations. 

" But this feeling, or immediate perception, is as difficult to 
be comprehended, as the things which we pretend to explain by 
it. Two things may be in contact, without any feeling of per- 
ception ; there must, therefore, be in the percipient, a power to 
feel, or to perceive. How this power is produced, and how it 
operates, is quite beyond the reach of our knowledge. As little 
can we know, whether this power must be limited to things 
present, and in contact with us. Neither can any man pretend 
to prove, that the Being who gave us the power to perceive 



" In popular language, idea signifies the same thing as conception, ap- 
prehension, notion. To have an idea of any thing, is to conceive it. To 
have a distinct idea, is to conceive it distinctly. To have no idea of it, is 
not to conceive it at all. When the word idea is taken in this popular 
sense, no man can possibly doubt whether he has ideas. 

" According to the philosophical meaning of the word idea, it does not 
signify that act of the mind which we call thought, or conception, but some 
object of thought. Of these objects of thought called ideas, different sects 
of philosophers have given very different accounts. 

" Some have held them to be self-existent ; others, to be in the divine 
mind ; others, in our own minds ; and others, in the brain, or sensorium." 
— p. 213. 

I don't know of any author who, prior to Dr. Reid, has expressed him- 
self on this subject with so much justness and precision as Father Burner, 
in the following passage of his Treatise on First Truths. 

" If we confine ourselves to what is intelligible in our observations on 
Ideas, we will say, they are nothing but mere modifications of the mind as 
a thinking being. They are called ideas with regard to the object repre- 
sented ; and perception, with regard to the faculty representing. It is man- 
ifest that our ideas, considered in this sense, are not more distinguished 
from our understanding than motion is from a body moved." 



100 ABSTRACTION. 

things present, may not give us the power to perceive thing3 
distant, to remember things past, and to conceive things that 
never existed." 

What ideas correspond to general terms. — As in all the an • 
cient metaphysical systems it was taken for granted, (probably 
from the analogy of our external perceptions,) that every exer- 
tion of thought implies the existence of an object distinct from 
the thinking being; it naturally occurred, as a very curious 
question, What is the immediate object of our attention, when 
we are engaged in any general speculation ; or, in other words, 
what is the nature of the idea corresponding to a general term ? 
When I think of any particular object which I have formerly 
perceived, such as a particular friend, a particular tree, or a 
particular mountain, I can comprehend what is meant by a pic- 
ture or representation of such objects : and therefore the expla- 
nation given by the ideal theory of that act of the mind which 
we formerly called conception, if not perfectly satisfactory, is at 
least not wholly unintelligible. But what account shall we give 
upon the principles of this theory, of the objects of my thoughts, 
when I employ the words friend, tree, mountain, as generic 
terms ? For, that all the things I have ever perceived are indi- 
viduals ; and consequently, that the ideas denoted by general 
words, (if such ideas exist,) are not copied from any originals 
that have fallen under my observation, is not only self-evident, 
but almost an identical proposition. 

Opinions of the ancients on this subject. — In answer to this 
question, the Platonists, and, at a still earlier period, the Pytha- 
goreans taught, that although these universal ideas are not 
copied from any objects perceivable by sense, yet that they 
have an existence independent of the human mind, and are no 
more to be confounded with the understanding, of which they 
are the proper objects, than material things are to be confounded 
with our powers of external perception ; that as all the individ- 
uals which compose a genus must possess something in common ; 
and as it is in consequence of this that they belong to that ge- 
nus, and are distinguishable by the same name, this commoD 
thing forms the essence of each, and is the object of the under 



ABSTRACTION. 101 

standing, wnen we reason concerning the genus. They main- 
tained also, that this common essence,'* notwithstanding its insep- 
arable union with a multitude of different individuals, is, in itself, 
one and indivisible. 

On most of these points, the philosophy of Aristotle seems to 
have coincided very nearly with that of Piato. The language, 
however, which these philosophers employed on this subject was 
different, and gave to their doctrines the appearance of a wider 
diversity than probably existed between their opinions. While 
Plato was led, by his passion for the marvellous and the myste- 
rious, to insist on the incomprehensible union of the same idea 
or essence with a number of individuals, without multiplication 
or division ; f Aristotle, more cautious, and aiming at greater 
perspicuity, contented himself with saying, that all individuals 
are composed of matter and form ; and that it is in consequence 
of possessing a common form, that different individuals belong 
to the same genus. But they both agreed, that as the matter, 
or the individual natures, of objects were perceived by sense ; 
so the general idea, or essence, or form, was perceived by the 
intellect ; and that, as the attention of the vulgar was chiefly 
engrossed with the former, so the latter furnished to the philos- 
opher the materials of his speculations. 

The chief difference between the opinions of Plato and Aris- 
totle on the subject of ideas, related to the mode of their exist- 
ence. That the matter of which all things are made, existed 
from eternity, was a principle which both admitted ; but Plato 



* In this very imperfect sketch of the opinions of the ancients concern- 
ing universals, I have substituted, instead of the word idea, the word 
essence, as better fitted to convey to a modern reader the true import of 
Plato's expressions. The word essentia is said to have been first employed 
by Cicero ; and it was afterwards adopted by the schoolmen, in the same 
sense in which the Platonists used the word idea. 

t " The idea of a thing," says Plato, " is that which makes one of the 
many; which, preserving the unity and integrity of its own nature, runs 
through and mixes with things infinite in number; and yet, however mul- 
tiform it may appear, is always the same : so that by it we find out and 
discriminate the thing, whatever shapes it may assume, and under what- 
ever disguise it may conceal itself." 

9* 



102 ABSTRACTION. 

further taught, that of every species of things, there is an idea 
of form which also existed from eternity; and that this idea is 
(he exemplar, or model, according to which the individuals of the 
species were made ; whereas Aristotle held, that, although mat- 
ter may exist without form, yet that forms could not exist with- 
out matter. 

Opinions of the philosophers of the Middle Ages. — As it is 
not my object, in this work, to enter into historical details, any 
further than is necessary for illustrating the subjects of which I 
treat, I shall pass over the various attempts which were made 
by the Eclectic philosophers, (a sect which arose at Alexandria, 
about the beginning of tlfe third century,) to reconcile the doc- 
trines of Plato and Aristotle, concerning ideas. The endless 
difficulties, it would appear, to which their speculations led, in- 
duced, at last, the more cautious and modest inquirers to banish 
them entirely from Dialectics, and to content themselves with 
studying the arrangements or classifications of universal, which 
the ancient philosophers had made, without engaging in any 
metaphysical disquisitions concerning their nature. Porphyry, 
in particular, although he tells us that he has speculated much 
on this subject, yet, in his Introduction to Aristotle's Catego- 
ries, waives the consideration of it as obscure and intricate. On 
such questions as these : " Whether genera and species exist in 
nature, or are only conceptions of the human mind ; and (on 
the supposition that they exist in nature) whether they are inher- 
ent in the objects of sense, or disjoined from them ? " he de- 
clines giving any determination. 

This passage in Porphyry's Introduction is an object of curi- 
osity ; as by a singular concurrence of circumstances, it served 
to perpetuate the memory of a controversy from which it was 
the author's intention to divert the inquiries of his readers. 
Amidst the disorders produced by the irruptions of the barba- 
rians, the knowledge of the Greek tongue was almost entirely 
lost ; and the studies of philosophers were confined to Latin 
versions of Aristotle's Dialectics, and Porphyry's Introduction 
concerning the Categories. With men who had a relish for such 
disquisitions, it is probable that the passage already quoted from 



ABSTRACTION. 103 

Porphyry, would have a tendency rather to excite than to damp 
curiosity ; and accordingly we have reason to believe, that the 
controversy to which it relates continued, during the dark ages, 
to form a favorite subject of discussion. The opinion which 
was prevalent was, (to use the scholastic language of the times,) 
that universals do not exist before things, nor after things, but in 
things ; that is, (if I may be allowed to attempt a commentary 
upon expressions to which I do not pretend to be able to annex 
very precise notions,) universal ideas have not (as Plato thought) 
an existence separable from individual objects ; and therefore 
they could not have existed prior to them in the order of time ; 
nor yet, (according to the doctrine of the Stoics,) are they mere 
conceptions of the mind, formed in consequence of an examina- 
tion and comparison of particulars ; but these ideas or forms 
are from eternity united inseparably with that matter of which 
things consist ; or, as the Aristotelians sometimes express them- 
selves, the forms of things are from eternity immersed in mat- 
ter. The reader will, I hope, forgive me for entering into these 
details, not only on account of their connection with the obser- 
vations which are to follow ; but as they relate to a controversy 
which, for many ages, employed all the ingenuity and learning 
in Europe ; and which, therefore, however frivolous in itself, 
deserves the attention of philosophers, as one of the most curi- 
ous events which occur in the history of the human mind. 

Such appears to have been the prevailing opinion concerning 
the nature of universals, till the eleventh century ; when a new 
doctrine, or (as some authors think) a doctrine borrowed from 
the school of Zeno, was proposed by Roscelinus ; and soon after 
■very widely propagated over Europe by the abilities and elo- 
quence of one of his scholars, the celebrated Peter Abelard. 
According to these philosophers, there are no existences in na- 
ture corresponding to general terms ; and the objects of our at- 
tention in all of our general speculations are not ideas, but 
words. 

In consequence of this new doctrine, the schoolmen gradually 
formed themselves into two sects ; one of which attached itself 
to the opinions of Roscelinus and Abelard, while the other ad- 



104 NOMINALISM AND REALISM. 

hered to the principles of Aristotle. Of these sects, the forme* 
are known in literary history by the name of the Nominalists , 
the latter, by that of the Realists. 

As it is with the doctrine of the Nominalists that my own 
opinion on this subject coincides, and as I propose to deduce 
from it some consequences, which appear to me important, I 
shall endeavor to state it as clearly and precisely as I am able, 
pursuing, however, rather the train of my own thoughts, than 
guided by the reasons of any particular author. 

The doctrine of the Nominalists stated and defended. — I for- 
merly explained in what manner the words, which, in the infancy 
of language, were proper names, became gradually appellatives ; 
in consequence of which extension of their signification, they 
would express, when applied to individuals, those qualities only 
which are common to the whole genus. Now, it is evident, 
that, with respect to individuals of the same genus, there are 
two classes of truths ; the one, particular truths relating to each 
individual apart, and deduced from a consideration of its pecu- 
liar and distinguishing properties ; the other, general truths, de- 
duced from a consideration of their common qualities, and 
equally applicable to all of them. Such truths may be conven- 
iently expressed by means of general terms; so as to form 
propositions, comprehending under them as many particular 
truths, as there are individuals comprehended under the general 
terms. It is further evident, that there are two ways in which 
such general truths may be obtained ; either by fixing the attention 
on one individual, in such a manner that our reasoning may in- 
volve no circumstances but those which are common to the whole 
genus ; or, {laying aside entirely the consideration of things,) by 
means of the general terms with which language supplies us. In 
either of these cases, our investigations must necessarily lead us 
to general conclusions. In the first case, our attention being 
limited to those circumstances, in which the subject of our rea- 
soning resembles all other individuals of the same genus, what- 
ever we demonstrate with respect to this subject must be true 
of every other to which the same attributes belong. In the sec* 
ond case, the subject of our reasoning being expressed by a 



NOMINA LTSM AND REALTSM. 105 

generic word, which applies in common to a number of individ- 
uals, the conclusion we form must be as extensive in its appli- 
cation, as the name of the subject is in its meaning. The for- 
mer process is analogous to the practice of geometers, who, in 
their most general reasonings, direct the attention to a particu- 
lar diagram ; the latter, to that of algebraists, who carry on their 
investigations by means of symbols.* In cases of this last sort, 
it may frequently happen, from the association of ideas, that a 
general word may recall some one individual to which it is appli- 
cable : but this is so far from being necessary to the accuracy of 
our reasoning, that, excepting in some cases, in which it may 
be useful to check us in the abuse of general terms, it always 
has a tendency, more or less, to mislead us from the truth. As 
the decision of ^ judge must necessarily be impartial, when he 
is only acquainted with the relations in which the parties stand 
to each other, and when their names are supplied by letters of 
the alphabet, or by the fictitious names of Titus, Caius, and 
Sempronius ; so, in every process of reasoning, the conclusion 
we form is most likely to be logically just, when the attention is 
confined solely to signs ; and when the imagination does not 
present to it those individual objects, which may warp the judg- 
ment by casual associations. 

To these remarks, it may not be improper to add, that, al- 
though in our speculations concerning individuals, it is possible 
to carry on processes of reasoning by fixing our attention on 
the objects themselves, without the use of language ; yet it is 
also in our power to accomplish the same end, by substituting 



* These two methods of obtaining general truths proceed on the same 
principles, an 1 are, in fact, much less different from each other, than they 
appear to be at first view. When we carry on a process of general reason- 
ing by fixing our attention on a particular individual of a genus, this in- 
dividual is to be considered merely as a sign or representative, and differs 
from any other sign only in this, that it bears a certain resemblance to the 
things it denotes. The straight lines, which are employed in the fifth book 
of Euclid to represent magnitudes in general, differ from the algebraical 
expressions of these magnitudes in the same respects in which picture- 
writing differs from arbitrary characters. 



106 NOMINALISM AND REALISM. 

for these objects, words, or other arbitrary signs. The differ- 
ence between the employment of language in such cases, aid in 
our speculations concerning classes or genera, is, that in the for- 
mer case, the use of words is, in a great measure, optional ; 
whereas, in the latter, it is essentially necessary. This obser- 
vation deserves our attention the more, that, if I am not mistak- 
en, it has contributed to mislead some of the Realists, by giving 
rise to an idea, that the use of language, in thinking about uni- 
versal, however convenient, is not more necessary than in 
thinking about individuals. 

According to this view of the process of the mind, in carrying 
on general speculations, that idea, which the ancient philoso- 
phers considered as the essence of an individual, is nothing 
more than the particular quality or qualities in "which it resem- 
bles other individuals of the same class ; and in consequence of 
which, a generic name is applied to it. It is the possession of 
this quality, that entitles the individual to the generic appella- 
tion, and which, therefore, may be said to be essential to its 
classification with that particular genus ; but as all classifica- 
tions are to a certain degree arbitrary, it does not necessarily 
follow, that it is more essential to its existence as an individual, 
than various other qualities which we are accustomed to regard 
as accidental. In other words, (if I may borrow the language 
of modern philosophy,) this quality forms its nominal, but not 
its real essence. 

These observations will, I trust, be sufficient for the satisfac- 
tion of such of my readers as are at all conversant with philo- 
sophical inquiries. For the sake of others, to whom this disqui- 
sition may be new, I have added the following illustrations. 

All reasoning may take place by symbols, or arbitrary signs, 
alone. — I shall have occasion to examine, in another part of 
my work, how far it is true, (as is commonly believed,) that 
every process of reasoning may be resolved into a series of syl- 
logisms ; and to point out some limitations, with which, I appre- 
hend, it is necessary that this opinion should be received. As 
it would lead me, however, too far from my present subject, to 
anticipate any part of the doctrine which I am then to propose, 



NOMINALISM AND REALISM. 107 

1 shall, in the following remarks, proceed on the supposition, 
that the syllogistic theory is well founded ; a supposition which, 
although not strictly agreeable to truth, is yet sufficiently accu- 
rate for the use which I am now to make of it. Take, then, any 
step of one of Euclid's demonstrations ; for example, the first 
step of his first proposition, and state it in the form of a syllo- 
gism. " All straight lines, drawn from the centre of a circle to 
the circumference, are equal to one another." " But A B, and 
C D, are straight lines drawn from the centre of a circle to the 
circumference. Therefore, A B is equal to C D." It is per- 
fectly manifest, that, in order to feel the force of this conclusion, 
it is by no means necessary, that I should annex any particular 
notions to the letters A B, or C D, or that I should comprehend 
what is meant by equality, or by a circle, its centre, and its cir- 
cumference. Every person must be satisfied, that the truth of 
the conclusion is necessarily implied in that of the two premises, 
whatever the particular things may be to which these premises 
may relate. In the following syllogism, too : " All men must 
die ; Peter is a man ; therefore Peter must die ; " the evi- 
dence of the conclusion does not in the least depend on the par- 
ticular notions I annex to the words man and Peter ; but would 
be equally complete, if we were to substitute, instead of them, 
two letters of the alphabet, or any other insignificant characters. 
" All X's must die ; Z is an X ; therefore Z must die ; " — is 
a syllogism which forces the assent no less than the former. 
It is further obvious, that this syllogism would be equally con- 
clusive, if, instead of the word die, I were to substitute any 
other verb that the language contains ; and, that, in order to 
perceive the justness of the inference, it is not even necessary 
that I should understand its meaning. 

In general, it might be easily shown, that all the rules of 
logic with respect to syllogisms, might be demonstrated, without 
having recourse to any thing but letters of the alphabet ; in the 
same manner, (and I may add, on the very same principles,) on 
which the algebraist demonstrates, by means of these letters, 
the various rules for transposing the terms of an equation. 

From what has been said, it follows, that the assent we give 



108 NOMINALISM AND REALISM. 

to the conclusion of a syllogism does not result from any exam- 
ination of the notions expressed by the different propositions of 
which it is composed, but is an immediate consequence of the 
relations in which the words stand to each other. The truth is, 
that in every syllogism, the inference is only a particular in- 
stance of the general axiom, that whatever is true universally 
of any sign, must also be true of every individual which that 
sign can be employed to express. Admitting, therefore, that 
every process of reasoning may be resolved into a series of syl- 
logisms, it follows, that this operation of the mind furnishes no 
proof of the existence of any thing corresponding to general 
terms, distinct from the individuals to which these terms are 
applicable. 

These remarks, I am very sensible, do, by no means, exhaust 
the subject ; for there are various modes of reasoning, to which 
the syllogistic theory does not apply. But, in all of them, with- 
out exception, it will be found on examination, that the evidence 
of our conclusions appears immediately from the consideration 
of the words in which the premises are expressed ; without any 
reference to the things which they denote. The imperfect ac- 
count which is given of deductive evidence, in the received sys- 
tems of logic, makes it impossible for me, in this place, to pros- 
ecute the subject any further. 

After all I have said on the use of language as an instrument 
of reasoning, I can easily foresee a variety of objections, which 
may occur to the doctrine I have been endeavoring to establish. 
But without entering into a particular examination of these ob- 
jections, I believe I may venture to affirm, that most, if not all, 
of them take their rise from confounding reasoning, or deduc- 
tion, properly so called, with certain other intellectual processes, 
which it is necessary for us to employ in the investigation of 
truth. That it is frequently of essential importance to us, in our 
speculations, to withdraw our attention from words, and to direct 
it to the things they denote, I am very ready to acknowledge. 
All that I assert is, that, in so far as our speculations consist of 
that process of the mind which is properly called reasoning, they 
may be carried on by words alone ; or, which comes to the same 



NOMINALISM AND REALISM. 109 

thing, that every process of reasoning is perfectly analogous to 
an algebraical operation. What I mean by " the other intel- 
lectual processes distinct from reasoning, which it is necessary 
for us sometimes to employ in the investigation of truth," will, I 
hope, appear clearly from the following remarks. 

Mental operations subsidiary to reasoning. — In algebraical 
investigations, it is well known, that the practical application of 
a general expression is frequently limited by the conditions 
which the hypothesis involves ; and that, in consequence of a 
want of attention to this circumstance, some mathematicians of 
the first eminence have been led to adopt the most paradoxical 
and absurd conclusions. Without this cautious exercise of the 
judgment in the interpretation of the algebraical language, no 
dexterity in the use of the calculus will be sufficient to preserve 
us from error. Even in algebra, therefore, there is an applica- 
tion of the intellectual powers perfectly distinct from any pro- 
cess of reasoning, and which is absolutely necessary for con- 
ducting us to the truth. 

In Geometry, we are not liable to adopt the same paradoxical 
conclusions, as in algebra ; because the diagrams, to which our 
attention is directed, serve as a continual check on our reason- 
ing powers. These diagrams exhibit, to our very senses, a va- 
riety of relations among the quantities under consideration, 
which the language of algebra is too general to express ; in con- 
sequence of which, we are not conscious of any effort of the 
judgment distinct from a process of reasoning. As every geo- 
metrical investigation, however, may be expressed algebraically, 
it is manifest, that in geometry, as well as in algebra, there is an 
exercise of the intellectual powers, distinct from the logical pro- 
cess ; although, in the former science, it is rendered so easy, by 
the use of diagrams, as to escape our attention. 

The same source of error and of absurdity, which exists in 
algebra, is to be found, in a much greater degree, in the other 
branches of knowledge. Abstracting entirely from the ambig- 
uity of language, and supposing also our reasonings to be logi- 
cally accurate, it would still be necessary for us, from time to 
time, in all our speculations, to lay aside the use of words, and to 

10 



110 NOMINALISM AND REALISM. 

have recourse to particular examples or illustrations, in order to 
correct and to limit our general conclusions. To a want of at- 
tention to tnis circumstance, a number of the speculative ab- 
surdities which are current in the world might, I am persuaded 
be easily traced. 

Besides, however, this source of error, which is in some de- 
gree common to all the sciences, there is a great variety of 
others, from which mathematics are entirely exempted ; and 
which perpetually tend to lead us astray in our philosophical 
inquiries. Of these, the most important is, that ambiguity in the 
signification of words, which renders it so difficult to avoid em- 
ploying the same expressions in different senses, in the course 
of the same process of reasoning. This source of mistake, in- 
deed, is apt, in a much greater degree, to affect our conclusions 
in metaphysics, morals, and politics, than in the different branches 
of natural philosophy ; but if we except mathematics, there is 
no science whatever, in which it has not a very sensible influ- 
ence. In algebra, we may proceed with perfect safety through 
the longest investigations, without carrying our attention beyond 
the signs, till we arrive at the last result. But in the other sci- 
ences, excepting in those cases in which we have fixed the 
meaning of all our terms by accurate definitions, and have ren- 
dered the use of these terms perfectly familiar to us by very 
long habit, it is but seldom that we can proceed in this manner, 
without danger of error. In many cases, it is necessary for us 
to keep up, during the whole of our investigations, a scrupulous 
and constant attention to the signification of our expressions ; 
and in most cases, this caution in the use of words is a much 
more difficult effort of the mind, than the logical process. But 
still this furnishes no exception to the general doctrine already 
delivered ; for the attention we find it necessary to give to the 
import of our words arises only from the accidental circum 
stance of their ambiguity, and has no essential connection with 
that process of the mind which is properly called reasoning ; and 
which consists in the inference of a conclusion from premises. 
In all the sciences, this process of the mind is perfectly analo- 
gous to an algebraical operation ; or, in other words, (when the 



ABSTRACTION. HI 

meaning of our expressions is once fixed by definitions,) it may 
be carried on entirely by the use of signs, without attending, 
during the time of the process, to the things signified. 
. The conclusion to which the foregoing observations lead, ap- 
pears to me to be decisive of the question, with respect to the ob- 
jects of our thoughts when we employ general terms ; for if it be 
granted, that words, even when employed without any reference 
to their particular signification, form an instrument of thought 
sufficient for all the purposes of reasoning ; the only shadow 
of an argument in proof of the common doctrine on the subject, 
(I mean that which is founded on the impossibility of explain- 
ing this process of the mind on any other hypothesis,) falls to 
the ground. Nothing less, surely, than a conviction of this im- 
possibility, could have so long reconciled philosophers to an 
hypothesis unsupported by any direct evidence ; and acknowl- 
edged, even by its warmest defenders, to involve much difficulty 
and mystery. 

Uses of illustrated and abstract reasoning. — It does not fall 
within my plan to enter, in this part of my work, into a par- 
ticular consideration of the practical consequences which follow 
from the foregoing doctrine. I cannot, however, help remark- 
ing the importance of cultivating, on the one hand, a talent for 
ready and various illustration ; and, on the other, a habit of rea- 
soning by means of general terms. The former talent is neces- 
sary, not only for correcting and limiting our general conclu- 
sions, but for enabling us to apply our knowledge, when occasion 
requires, to its real practical use. The latter serves the double 
purpose, of preventing our attention from being distracted dur- 
ing the course of our reasonings, by ideas which are foreign to 
the point in question, and of diverting the attention from those 
conceptions of particular objects and particular events which 
might disturb the judgment, by the ideas and feelings which are 
apt to be associated with them, in consequence of our own cas- 
ual experience. 

This last observation points out to us, also, one principal 
foundation of the art of the orator. As his object is not so much 
to inform and satisfy the understandings of his hearers, as to 



112 ABSTRACTION. 

force their immediate assent ; it is frequently of use to him to 
clothe his reasonings in that specific and figurative language, 
which may either awaken in their minds associations favorable 
to his purpose, or may divert their attention from a logical ex- 
amination of his argument. A process of reasoning so ex- 
pressed, affords at once an exercise to the judgment, to the 
imagination, and to the passions ; and is apt, even when loose 
and inconsequential, to impose on the best understandings. 

It appears further, from the remarks which have been made, 
that the perfection of philosophical language, considered either 
as an instrument of thought, or as a medium of communication 
with others, consists in the use of expressions, which, from their 
generality, have no tendency to awaken the powers of concep- 
tion and imagination ; or, in other words, it consists in its ap- 
proaching, as nearly as possible, in its nature, to the language 
of algebra. And hence the effects which long habits of philo- 
sophical speculation have in weakening, by disuse, those facul- 
ties of the mind, which are necessary for the exertions of the 
poet and the orator ; and of gradually forming a style of compo- 
sition, which they who read merely for amusement, are apt to 
censure for a want of vivacity and of ornament.* 

III. Remarks on the opinions of some modem philosophers on 
the subject of the foregoing section. — After the death of Abe- 
lard, through whose abilities and eloquence the sect of Nominal- 
ists had enjoyed, for a few years, a very splendid triumph, the 
system of the Realists began to revive ; and it was soon so com- 
pletely reestablished in the schools, as to prevail, with little or 
no opposition, till the fourteenth century. What the circum- 



* " Language, like light, is a medium : and the true philosophical style, 
like light from a north window, exhibits objects clearly and distinctly 
without soliciting attention to itself. In painting subjects of amusement 
indeed, language may gild somewhat more, and color with the dyes of 
fancy ; but where information is of more importance than entertainment, 
though you cannot throw too strong a light, you should carefully avoid a 
colored one. The style of some writers resembles a bright light placed be 
tween the eye, and the thing to be looked at. The light shows itself, and 
hides the object." — Gilpin. 






ABSTRACTION. 113 

stances were, which led philosophers to abandon a doctrine, 
which seems so strongly to recommend itself by its simplicity, 
it' is not very easy to conceive. Probably the heretical opin- 
13ns, which had subjected both Abelard and Roscelinus to the 
'censure of the Church, might create a prejudice also against 
their philosophical principles ; and probably, too, the manner in 
which these principles were stated and defended was not the 
clearest, nor the most satisfactory. The principal cause, how- 
ever, I am disposed to think, of the decline of the sect of Nom- 
inalists, was their want of some palpable example, by means of 
which they might illustrate their doctrine. It is by the use 
which algebraists make of the letters of the alphabet in carry- 
ing on their operations, that Leibnitz and Berkeley have been 
most successful in explaining the use of language as an instru- 
ment of thought : and, as in the twelfth century, the algebraical 
art was entirely unknown, Roscelinus and Abelard must have 
been reduced to the necessity of conveying their leading idea 
by general circumlocutions ; and must have found considerable 
difficulty in stating it in a manner satisfactory to themselves ; a 
consideration, which, if it accounts for the slow progress which 
this doctrine made in the world, places in the more striking light 
the genius of those men whose sagacity led them, under so 
great disadvantages, to approach* to a conclusion so just and 
philosophical in itself, and so opposite to the prevailing opinions 
of their age. 

In the fourteenth century, this sect seems to have been 
almost completely extinct ; their doctrine being equally repro- 
bated by the two great parties which then divided the schools, 
the followers of Duns Scotus and of Thomas Aquinas. These, 
although they differed in their manner of explaining the nature 
of universals, and opposed each other's opinions with much as- 
perity, yet united in rejecting the doctrine of the Nominalists, 
not only as absurd, but as leading to the most dangerous conse- 
quences. At last, William Occam, a native of England, and a 
scholar of Duns Scotus revived the ancient controversy, and, 
with equal ability and success, vindicated the long-abandoned 
philosophy of Roscelinus. From this time the dispute was car- 

10* 



114 ABSTRACTION. 

ried on -villi great »\~arinth in the universities of France, of Ger- 
many, and oi England, more particularly in the two former coun- 
tries, where the sovereigns were led, by some political views, to 
interest themselves deeply in the contest, and even to employ 
the civil power in supporting their favorite opinions. The Em- 
peror Lewis of Bavaria, in return for the assistance which, in 
his disputes with the Pope, Occam had given to him by his 
writings, sided with the Nominalists. Lewis the Eleventh of 
France, on the other hand, attached himself to the Realists, and 
made their antagonists the objects of a cruel persecution. 

The dispute to which the foregoing observations relate, al- 
though, for some time after the Reformation, interrupted by the- 
ological disquisitions, has been since occasionally revived by 
different writers, and, singular as it may appear, it has not yet 
been brought to a conclusion in which all parties are agreed. 
The names, indeed, of Nominalists and Realists exist no longer : 
but the point in dispute between these two celebrated sects, 
coincides precisely with a question which has been agitated hi 
our own times, and which has led to one of the most beautiful 
speculations of modern philosophy 

Doctrines and conclusions of the later Nominalists. — Of the 
advocates who have appeared for the doctrine of the Nominal- 
ists, since the revival of letters, the most distinguished are 
Hobbes, Berkeley, and Hume. The first has, in various parts 
of his works, reprobated the hypothesis of the Realists, and 
has stated the opinions of their antagonists with that acuteness, 
simplicity, and precision, which distinguish all his writings.* 

* " The universality of one name to many things, hath been the cause 
that men think the things themselves are universal ; and so seriously con- 
tend, that, besides Peter and John, and all the rest of the men that are, 
have been, or shall be, in the world, there is yet something else that we 
call man, namely, Man in general ; deceiving themselves, by taking the 
universal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth. For if one 
should desire the painter to make him the picture of a man, which is as 
much as to say, of a man in general, he meaneth no more but that the 
painter should choose what man he pleascth to draw, which must needs 
be some of them that are, or have been, or may be : none of which are uni- 
versal. But when we would 1 ave him to draw the picture of the king, or 



ABSTRACTION. 115 

The second, considering (and, in my opinion, justly) the doc- 
trines of the ancients concerning universals, in support of which 
30 much ingenuity had been employed by the Realists, as the 
great source of mystery and error in the abstract sciences, was 
at pains to overthrow it completely, by some very ingenious and 
original speculations of his own. Mr. Hume's * view on the 
subject, as he himself acknowledges, does not differ materially 
from that of Berkeley ; whom, by the way, he seems to have 
regarded as the author of an opinion, of which he was only an 
expositor and defender, and which, since the days of Roscelinus 
and Abelard, has been familiarly known in all the universities 
of Europe. 

Notwithstanding, however, the great merit of these writers in 
defending and illustrating the system of the Nominalists, none 
of them seem to me to have been fully aware of the important 
consequences to which it leads. The Abbe de Condillac was, I 
believe, the first (if we except, perhaps, Leibnitz), who per- 
ceived that, if this system be true, a talent for reasoning must 
consist, in a great measure, in a skilful use of language as an 
instrument of thought. The most valuable of his remarks on 
this subject are contained in a treatise, On the Art of Thinking, 
which forms the fourth volume of his " Course of Study." 

any particular person, he limiteth the painter to that one person he choos- 
eth. It is plain, therefore, that there is nothing universal bat names, which are 
therefore called indefinite, because we limit them not ourselves, but leave 
them to be applied by the hearer ; whereas a singular name is limited and 
restrained to one of the many things it signifieth ; as when we say, this 
man, pointing to him, or giving him his proper name, or by some such 
other way." — Hobbes's Tripos, chap. v. sect. 6. 

* " A very material question has been started concerning abstractor 
general ideas, Whether they be general or particular in the mind's con- 
ception of them ? A great philosopher has disputed the received opinion 
in this particular ; and has asserted, that all general ideas are nothing but 
particular ones annexed to a certain term, which gives them a more exten- 
sive signification, and makes them recall, upon occasion, other individuals, 
which are similar to them. As I look upon this to be one of the greatest 
and most valuable discoveries that have been made of late years in the re 
public of letters, 1 shall here endeavor to confirm it by some arguments, 
whi^h I hope will put it beyond all doubt and controversy." — Treatise of 
Human Nature, Book i. part i. sect. 7. 



116 ABSTIiAC'JLION. 

Refutation of Dr. Price's arguments. — The explanation 
which the doctrines of these writers afford, of the process of tLe 
mind in general reasoning, is so simple, and at the same time, 
in my apprehension, so satisfactory, that I own it is with some 
degree of surprise I have read the attempts which have lately 
been made to revive the systems of the Realists. One of the 
ablest of these attempts is by Dr. Price, who, in his very valua- 
ble " Treatise on Morals," has not only employed his ingenuity 
in support of some of the old tenets of the Platonic school, but 
has even gone so far as to follow Plato's example, in connecting 
this speculation about universals with the sublime questions of 
natural theology. The observations which he has offered in 
support of these opinions, I have repeatedly perused with all 
the attention in my power, but without being able to enter into 
his views, or even to comprehend fully his meaning. Indeed, I 
must acknowledge that it appears to me to afford no slight pre- 
sumption against the principles on which he proceeds, when I 
observe, that an author, remarkable, on most occasions, for pre- 
cision of ideas and for perspicuity of style, never fails to lose 
himself in obscurity and mystery when he enters on these dis- 
quisitions. 

Dr. Price's reasonings in proof of the existence of univer- 
sals, are the more curious, as he acquiesces in some of Dr. 
Reid's conclusions with respect to the ideal theory of percep- 
tion. That there are, in the mind, images or resemblances of 
things external, he grants to be impossible'; but still he seems 
to suppose, that in every exertion of thought, there is something 
immediately present to the mind, which is the object of its atten- 
tion. " When abstract truth is contemplated, is not," says he, 
" the very object itself present to the mind ? When millions of 
intellects contemplate the equality of every angle in a semicircle 
to a right angle, have they not all the same object in view ? Is 
this object nothing ? or is it only an image, or kind of shadow ? 
These inquiries," he adds, " carry our thoughts high." * 



* The whole passage is as follows : " The word idea is sometimes used 
to signify the immediate object of the mind in thinking, considered as 



ABSTRACTION. 117 

The difficulty which has appeared so puzzling to this ingen- 
ious writer, is, in truth, more apparent than real. In the case 
of perception, imagination, and memory, it has been already 
fully shown, that we have no reason to believe the existence of 
any thing in the mind distinct from the mind itself; and that, 
even upon the supposition that the fact were otherwise, our in- 
tellectual operations would be just as inexplicable as they are 
at present. Why then should we suppose, that in our general 
speculations, there must exist in the mind some object of its 
thoughts, when it appears that there is no evidence of the ex- 
istence of any such object, even when the mind is employed 
about individuals ? 

How we reason about classes of objects. — Still, however, it 
may be urged, that although, in such cases, there should be no 
object of thought in the mind, there must exist something or 
other to which its attention is directed. To this difficulty I 
have no answer to make, but by repeating the fact which I 
have already endeavored to establish ; that there are only two 
ways in which we can possibly speculate about classes of ob- 
jects ; the one, by means of a word or generic term ; the other, 
by means of one 'particular individual of the class which we con- 
sider as the representative of the rest ; and that these two methods 
of carrying on our general speculations, are at bottom so much the 



something in the mind which represents the real object, but is different 
from it. This sense of an idea is derived from the notion, that when we 
think of any external existence, there is something immediately present to 
the mind, which it contemplates distinct from the object itself, that being 
at a distance. But what is this 1 It is bad language to call it an image 
in the mind of the object. Shall we say then, that there is indeed no such 
thing ? But would not this be the same as to say that, when the mind is 
employed in viewing and examining any object, which is either not pres- 
ent to it, or does not exist, it is employed in viewing and examining 
nothing, and therefore does not then think at all 1 When abstract truth is 
contemplated, is not the very object itself present to the mind 9 When 
millions of intellects contemplate the equality of every angle in a semicir- 
cle to a right angle, have they not all the same object in view 1 Is this 
object nothing 1 or is it only an image, or kind of shadow ? These inqui- 
ries carry our thoughts high." 



118 ABSTRACTION. 

same, as to authorize us to lay down as a principle, that, with' 
out the use of signs, all our thoughts must have related to indi- 
viduals. When we reason, therefore, concerning classes or gen- 
eva, the objects of our attention are merely signs ; or if, in any 
instance, the generic word should recall some individual, this 
circumstance is to be regarded only as the consequence of an 
accidental association, which has rather a tendency to disturb, 
than to assist us in our reasoning. 

Whether it might not have been possible for the Deity to 
have so formed us, that we might have been capable of reason- 
ing concerning classes of objects, without the use of signs, I 
shall not take upon me to determine. But this we may venture 
to affirm with confidence, that man is not such a being. And, 
indeed, even if he were, it would not therefore necessarily fol- 
low, that there exists any thing in a genus, distinct from the 
individuals of which it is composed ; for we know that the 
power which we have of thinking of particular objects without 
the medium of signs, does not in the least depend on their ex 
istence or non-existence at the moment we think of them. 

It would be vain, however, for us, in inquiries of this nature, 
to indulge ourselves in speculating about possibilities. It is of 
more consequence to remark the advantages which we derive 
from our actual constitution, and which, in the present instance, 
appear to me to be important and admirable ; inasmuch as it 
fits mankind for an easy interchange of their intellectual acqui- 
sitions, by imposing on them the necessity of employing, in their 
solitary speculations, the same instrument of thought, which 
forms the established medium of their communications with each 
other.* 



* [See note to page 77. 

It must be admitted, that, in other passages of his philosophical writ 
ings, Stewart does not seem to be always mindful of the doctrine which he 
has here labored to establish. Take the following, for instance, from " Note 
Q " to the First Part of his Dissertation on the Progress of Metaphysical 
Philosophy. In answer to a remark by Bonnet, that privation of one of the 
sens* s entails a loss of all the ideas usually obtained through that sense, he 
gays, " The question is not about our ideas of the material world, but about 



ABSTRACTION. 119 

The doctrine of the Conceptualists. — In the very slight sketch 
which I have given of the controversy between the Nominalists 



those ideas on metaphysical and moral subjects, which may be equally im- 
parted to the blind and the deaf ; enabling them to arrive at a knowledge 
of the same truths, and exciting in their minds the same moral emotions. 
The signs employed in the reasonings of these two classes of persons will 
of course excite by association, in their respective fancies, very different 
material images ; but whence the origin of the metaphysical and moral no- 
tions of which these signs are the vehicle, and for suggesting which, all sets 
of signs seem to be equally fitted ? " 

What are these " notions," expressly referred, not to material, but to 
metaphysical or moral, objects, which are here clearly distinguished from 
the "signs," or mere words, that are used to indicate them ? As a strict 
Nominalist, and yet as a vigorous opponent of philosophical skepticism, 
Stewart would have found it difficult to answer this question. In truth, 
when we speak of cause, time, space, substance, etc., no one but a skeptic can 
maintain that either mere words, or specific material things, are the ob- 
jects of our thoughts. 

On the other side, we present an extract from the argument of Bishop 
Berkeley, who is among the ablest and most consistent of the modern 
Nominalists. 

" It is thought that every name hath, or ought to have, one only precise 
and settled signification, which inclines men to think that there are certain 
abstract determinate ideas, which constitute the true and only immediate 
signification of each general name ; and that it is by the mediation of these 
abstract ideas, that a general name comes to signify any particular thing. 
Whereas, in truth, there is no such thing as one precise and definite significa- 
tion annexed to any general name, they all signifying indifferently a great 

number of particular ideas To this it will be objected, that every 

name that has a definition, is thereby restrained to one certain significa- 
tion. For example, a triangle is defined to be ' a plain surface compre- 
hended by three right lines.' To which I answer, that in the definition it 
is not said whether the surface be great or small, black or white, nor 
whether the sides are long or short, equal or unequal, nor with what an- 
gles they are inclined to each other : — in all which there may be great va- 
riety, and consequently there is no one settled idea which limits the signifi- 
cation of the word triangle. It is one thing to keep a name constantly to 
the same definition, and another to make it stand everywhere for the same 
idea ; the one is necessary, the other useless and impracticable. 

" But to give a further account how words came to produce the doctrine 
of abstract ideas, it must be observed that it is a received opinion, that lan- 
guage has no other end but the communicating our ideas, and that every 



120 ABSTRACTION. 

and the Realists about the existence of universals, I have taken 
no notice of the intermediate sect called Conceptualists ; whose 



significant name stands for an idea. This being so, and it being withal 
certain that names, which yet are not thought altogether insignificant, do 
not always mark out particular conceivable ideas, it is straightway con- 
cluded that they stand for abstract notions. That there are many names 
in use amongst speculative men, which do not always suggest to others 
determinate particular ideas, is what nobody will deny. And a little atten- 
tion will discover, that it is not necessary (even in the strictest reasonings) 
significant names which stand for ideas should, every time they are used, 
excite in the understanding the ideas they are made to stand for ; in read- 
ing and discoursing, names being, for the most part, used as letters are in 
algebra, in which, though a particular quantity be marked by each letter, 
yet, to proceed right, it is not requisite that in every step each letter suggest 
to your thoughts that particular quantity it was appointed to stand for. 

" Besides, the communicating of ideas marked by words is not the chief 
and only end of language, as is commonly supposed. There are other 
ends, as the raising of some passion, the exciting to or deterring from an 
action, the putting the mind in some particular disposition, to which the 
former is in many cases barely subservient, and sometimes entirely omit- 
ted, when these can be obtained without it, as I think doth not unfre- 
quently happen in the familiar use of language. I entreat the reader to 
reflect with himself, and see if it doth not often happen, either in hearing 
or reading a discourse, that the passions of fear, love, hatred, admiration, 
disdain, and the like, arise immediately in his mind upon the perception of 
certain words, without any ideas coming between. At first, indeed, the 
words might have occasioned ideas that were fit to produce those emo- 
tions ; but if I mistake not, it will be found that when language has once 
grown familiar, the hearing of the sounds or sight of the characters is oft 
immediately attended with those passions, which at first were wont to be 
produced by the intervention of ideas that are now quite omitted. May 
we not, for example, be affected with the promise of a good thing, though 
we have not an idea of what it is ? Or is not the being threatened with 
danger sufficient to excite a dread, though we think not of any particular 
evil likely to befall us, nor yet frame to ourselves an abstract ? If any one 
shall join ever so little reflection of his own to what has been said, I be- 
lieve it will evidently appear to him, that general names are often used in 
the propriety of language without the speaker's designing them for marks 
of ideas of his own, which he would have them raise in the mind of the 
hearer. Even proper names themselves do not seem always spoken with 
a design to bring into our view the ideas of those individuals that are sup- 
posed to be marked by them. For example, when a schoolman tells me 



ABSTRACTION. 121 

distinguishing tenet is said to have been, that the mind has a 
power of forming general conceptions. From the indistinctness 
and inaccuracy of their language on the subject, it is not a very- 
easy matter to ascertain precisely what was their opinion on the 
point in question ; but on the whole, I am inclined to think that 
it amounted to the two following propositions : first, that we 
have no reason to believe the existence of any essences, or uni- 
versal ideas, corresponding to general terms ; and secondly, that 
the mind has the power of reasoning concerning genera or 
classes of individuals, without the mediation of language. In- 
deed, I cannot think of any other hypothesis which it is possible 
to form on the subject, distinct from those of the two celebrated 
sects already mentioned. In denying the existence of univer 
sals, we know that the Conceptualists agreed with the Nominal- 
ists. In what, then, can we suppose that they differed from 
them, but about the necessity of language as an instrument of 
thought, in carrying on our general speculations ? * 



Aristotle hath said it, all I conceive he means by it, is, to dispose me to em- 
brace his opinion with the deference and submission which custom has 
annexed to that name/' — -Introduction to the Principles of Human Knowl- 
edge, §§ XVIII-XX. 

* [It is hardly fair to charge the doctrine of the Conceptualists with 
obscurity or indefiniteness, whatever may be thought of its foundation in 
truth. Its meaning is obvious enough. Whenever we use a general term, 
as animal, house, triangle, the Conceptualists maintain that our object of 
thought is something more definite than a mere word, but less definite than 
such a precise idea as we have of a particular house or triangle ; — it must be 
thus less definite, inasmuch as it is equally applicable to any house or 
triangle whatsoever, be it large or small — black, white, or green. They 
affirm, that this object of thought is a conception of such properties only as are 
common to all triangles, or to all houses. Such a conception, they say, is 
possible ; it is merely a partial consideration of an object. Thus, I may 
think of a three-sided figure simply, without considering what it is made of, 
or whether it be large or small. On the other hand, the Nominalists main- 
tain that I cannot think an object, without thereby imaging it to the fancy, 
and thus individualizing it, or rendering it particular instead of general. 

Perhaps both parties are right. Some general ideas, (those, namely, of 
a low order of generalization,) may be thought of, without the aid of words. 
Thus, I may have a very dear conception of a yellow globe, six inches in 

11 



122 ABSTRACTION. 

With this sect of Conceptualists, Dr. Reid is disposed to rank 
Mr. Locke ; and I agree with him so far as to think, that, if 
Locke had any decided opinion on the point in dispute, it did 
not differ materially from what I have endeavored to express 
in the two general propositions which I have just now stated. 
The apparent inconsistencies which occur in that part of his 
Essay in which the question is discussed, have led subsequent 
authors to represent his sentiments in different lights ; but as 
these inconsistencies plainly show, that he was neither satisfied 
with the system of the Realists, nor with that of the Nominal- 
ists, they appear to me to demonstrate, that he leaned to the 
intermediate hypothesis already mentioned, notwithstanding 
the inaccurate and paradoxical manner in which he has ex- 
pressed it. 

Dr. JReid's opinion on this subject. — May I take the liberty 
of adding, that Dr. Reid's own opinion seems to me also to coin- 
cide nearly with that of the Conceptualists ; or, at least, to coin- 
cide with the two propositions which I have already supposed 



diameter, without thinking of it as hard or soft, hot or cold, heavy or light, 
or as made of plaster, iron, wood, pasteboard, india-rubber, or any other 
material. So, also, I may think of a star, without thinking of any partic- 
ular star, as Sirius or Arcturus. On the other hand, it seems very obvious 
that general terms of a very high order of generalization, such as thing, object, 
principle, etc., cannot have any object of thought corresponding to them ex- 
cept mere words ; and the only way to apprehend the meaning of such 
words is to call up in the mind one or more individuals of the class denoted 
by them, and, in the consideration of these individuals, to limit our atten- 
tion as far as possible to those qualities only which they possess in com- 
mon with their class. The Nominalists and Conceptualists would differ 
from each other only in determining the point on the scale of generaliza- 
tion at which the power of forming general conceptions ends, and the ne- 
cessity of using words begins ; or, what is the same thing, in determining 
what, and how many, qualities may be abstracted, before the general idea 
evanesces into a mere word. If all men were of the same size and com- 
plexion, I could certainly form the general conception of a man. But it 
is still disputed whether color or size can be abstracted from any class of 
material objects without destroying the general conception of that class 
It appears certain that we can form a distinct conception of breadthless lines 
as in geometry.) 



ABSTRACTION. 123 

to contain a summary of their doctrine ? The absurdity of the 
ancient opinion concerning universals, as maintained both by 
Plato and Aristotle, he has exposed by the clearest and most 
decisive arguments ; not to mention, that, by his own very orig- 
inal and important speculations concerning the ideal theory, he 
has completely destroyed that natural prejudice from which the 
whole system of universal ideas gradually took rise. If, even 
in the case of individuals, we have no reason to believe the ex- 
istence of any object of thought in the mind, distinct from the 
mind itself, we are at once relieved from all the difficulties in 
which philosophers have involved themselves, by attempting to 
explain, in consistency with that ancient hypothesis, the process 
of the mind in its general speculations. 

On the other hand, it is no less clear, from Dr. Reid's criti- 
cisms on Berkeley and Hume, that his opinion does not coincide 
with that of the Nominalists ; and that the power which the 
mind possesses of reasoning concerning classes of objects, ap- 
pears to him to imply some faculty, of which no notice is taken 
in the systems of these philosophers. 

In order to justify his own expressions concerning universals, 
and in opposition to the language of Berkeley and Hume, Dr. 
Reid is at pains to illustrate a distinction between conception 
and imagination, which, he thinks, has not been sufficiently 
attended to by philosophers. " A universal," says he, " is not 
an object of any external sense, and therefore cannot be imag 
ined ; but it may be distinctly conceived. When Mr. Pope says, 
' The proper study of mankind is man,' I conceive his meaning 
distinctly ; although I neither imagine a black or a white, a 
crooked or a straight man. I can conceive a thing that is impos- 
sible ; but I cannot distinctly imagine a thing that is impossible ; 
I can conceive a proposition or a demonstration, but I cannot 
imagine either. I can conceive understanding and will, virtue 
and vice, and other attributes of the mind ; but I cannot imagine 
them. In like manner, I can distinctly conceive universals ; but 
I cannot imagine them." 

It appears from this passage, that, hy conceiving universals, 
Dr. Reid means nothing more than understanding the meaning 



124 ABSTRACTION. 

of propositions involving general terms. But the observations 
he has made, (admitting them in their full extent,) do not in the 
least affect the question about the necessity of signs, to enable 
us to speculate about such propositions. The vague use which 
metaphysical writers have made of the word conception, (of 
which I had occasion to take notice in a former chapter,) has 
contributed in part to embarrass this subject. That we cannot 
conceive universals in a way at all analogous to that in which 
we conceive an absent object of sense, is granted on both sides. 
Why then should we employ the same word, conception, to ex 
press two operations of the mind which are essentially different ? 
When we speak of conceiving or understanding a general propo- 
sition, we mean nothing more than that we have a conviction, 
(founded on our previous use of the words in which it is ex- 
pressed,) that we have it in our power, at pleasure, to substitute, 
instead of the general terms, some one of the individuals compre- 
hended under them. When we hear a proposition announced, 
of which the terms are not familiar to us, we naturally desire to 
have it exemplified, or illustrated, by means of some particular 
instance ; and when we are once satisfied by such an applica- 
tion, that we have the interpretation of the proposition at all 
times in our power, we make no scruple to say, that we con- 
ceive or understand its meaning, although we should not extend 
our views beyond the words in which it is announced, or even 
although no particular exemplification of it should occur to us at 
the moment. It is in this sense only, that the terms of any gen- 
eral proposition can possibly be understood ; and therefore Dr. 
Reid's argument does not, in the least, invalidate the doctrine 
of the Nominalists, that, without the use of language, (under 
which term I comprehend every species of signs,) we should 
never have been able to extend our speculations beyond indi- 
viduals. 

That in many cases, we may safely employ in our n.asonings 
general terms, the meaning of which we are not even able to 
interpret in this way, and consequently, which are to e*s wholly 
insignificant, I had occasion already to demonstrate, il a former 
part of this section. 



ABSTRACTION. 125 

IV. Inferences with respect to the use of language as an instru- 
ment of thought, and the errors in reasoning to which it occa- 
sional 7 !/ gives rise. — In the last section, I mentioned Dr. Camp- 
bell as an ingenious defender of the system of the Nominalists ; 
and I alluded to a particular application which he has made of 
their doctrine. The reasonings which I had then in view, are 
to be found in the seventh chapter of the second book of his 
Philosophy of Rhetoric ; in which chapter, he proposes to ex- 
plain how it happens, " that nonsense so often escapes being de- 
tected, both by the writer and the reader." The title is some- 
what ludicrous in a grave and philosophical work ; but the dis- 
quisition to which it is prefixed contains many acute and pro- 
found remarks on the nature and power of signs, both as a me- 
dium of communication, and as an instrument of thought. 

Dr. Campbell's speculations with respect to language as an 
instrument of thought, seem to have been suggested by the fol- 
lowing passage in Mr. Hume's Treatise of Human Nature. " I 
believe, every one who examines the situation of his mind in 
reasoning will agree with me, that we do not annex distinct and 
complete ideas to every term we make use of; and that in talk- 
ing of government, church, negotiation, conquest, we seldom 
spread out in our minds all the simple ideas of which these 
complex ones are composed. It is, however, observable, that 
notwithstanding- this imperfection, we may avoid talking non- 
sense on these subjects ; and may perceive any repugnance 
among the ideas, as well as if we had a full comprehension of 
them. Thus if, instead of saying, that, in war, the weaker have 
always recourse to negotiation, we should say, that they have 
always recourse to conquest; the custom which we have ac- 
quired, of attributing certain relations to ideas, still follows the 
words, and makes us immediately perceive the absurdity of that 
proposition." 

How we can use words with propriety, though without attach- 
ing any particular idea or signification to them. — In the re- 
marks which Dr. Campbell has made on this passage, he has 
endeavored to explain in what manner our habits of thinking 

11* 



126 ABSTRACTION. 

and speaking gradually establish in the mind such relations 
among the words we employ, as enable us to carry on processes 
of reasoning by means of them, without attending in every in- 
stance to their particular signification. With most of his re- 
marks on this subject I perfectly agree ; but the illustrations he 
gives of them, are of too great extent to be introduced here ; 
and I would not wish to run the risk of impairing their perspi- 
cuity, by attempting to abridge them. I must, therefore, refer 
such of my readers as wish to prosecute the speculation, to his 
very ingenious and philosophical treatise. 

" In consequence of these circumstances," says Dr. Campbell, 
" it happens that, in matters which are perfectly familiar to us, 
we are able to reason by means of words, without examining, 
in every instance, their signification. Almost all the possible 
applications of the terms (in other words, all the acquired rela- 
tions of the signs,) have become customary to us. The conse- 
quence is, that an unusual application of any term is instantly 
detected; this detection breeds doubt, and this doubt occasions 
an immediate recourse to ideas. The recourse of the mind, 
when in any degree puzzled with the signs, to the knowledge it 
has of the things signified, is natural, and of such subjects per- 
fectly easy. And on this recourse, the discovery of the mean- 
ing, or of the unmeaningness, of what is said, is the immediate 
effect. But in matters that are by no means familiar, or are 
treated in an uncommon manner, and in such as are of an ab- 
struse and intricate nature, the case is widely different." The 
instances in which we are chiefly liable to be imposed on by 
words without meaning are, (according to Dr. Campbell,) the 
three following : — 

First, Where there is an exuberance of metaphor. 

Secondly, When the terms most frequently occurring denote 
things which are of a complicated nature, and to which the 
mind is not sufficiently familiarized. Such are the words, gov- 
ernment, church, state, constitution, polity, power, commerce, 
legislature, jurisdiction, proportion, symmetry, elegance. 

Thirdly, When the terms employed are very abstract, and 



abstraction. 127 

consequently of very extensive signification.* For an illustra- 
tion of these remarks, I must refer the reader to the ingenious 
work which I just now quoted. 

To the observations of these eminent writers, I shall take 
the liberty of adding, that we are doubly liable to the mistakes 
they mention, when we make use of a language which is not 
perfectly familiar to us. Nothing, indeed, I apprehend, can 
show more clearly the use we make of words in reasoning than 
this, that an observation which, when expressed in our own 
language, seems trite or frivolous, often acquires the appear- 
ance of depth and originality, by being translated into another. 
For my own part, at least, I am conscious of having been 
frequently led, in this way, to form an exaggerated idea of the 
merits of ancient and of foreign authors ; and it has happened 
to me more than once, that a sentence, which seemed at first to 
contain something highly ingenious and profound, when trans- 
lated into words familiar to me, appeared obviously to be a trite 
or a nugatory proposition. 

The effect produced by an artificial and inverted style in our 
own language, is similar to what we experience when we read 
a composition in a foreign one. The eye is too much dazzled 
to see distinctly. 

The deranged collocation of the words in Latin composition, 
aids powerfully the imposition we have now been considering, 
and renders that language an inconvenient medium of philo- 
sophical communication, as well as an inconvenient instrument 
of accurate thought. Indeed, in all languages in which this 



* " The more general any word is in its signification, it is the more lia- 
ble to be abused by an improper and unmeaning application. A very gen- 
eral term is applicable alike to a multitude of different individuals, a par- 
ticular term is applicable but to a few. When the rightful applications of 
a word are extremely numerous, they cannot all be so strongly fixed by 
habit, but, tbat, for greater security, we must perpetually recur in our 
minds from tbe sign to the notion we have of the thing signified ; and, for 
the reason aforementioned, it is in such instances difficult precisely to as- 
certain this notion. Thus, the latitude of a word, though different from 
its ambiguity, hath often a similar effect." — Philosophy of Rhetoric, vol. 
U. p. 122. 



128 ABSTRACTION. 

latitude in the arrangement of words is admitted, the associa- 
tions among words must be looser than where one invariable 
order is followed ; and of consequence, on the principles of 
Hume and Campbell, the mistakes which are committed in 
reasonings expressed in such languages will not be so readily 
detected. 

Languages, being controlled by popular use, are not adapted for 
scientific purposes. — The errors in reasoning to which we are 
exposed, in consequence of the use of words as an instrument 
of thought, will appear the less surprising, when we consider 
that all the languages which have hitherto existed in the world, 
have derived their origin from popular use ; and that their ap- 
plication to philosophical purposes was altogether out of the 
view of those men who first employed them. Whether it might 
not be possible to invent a language which would at once facili- 
tate philosophical communication, and form a more convenient 
instrument of reasoning and of invention than those we possess 
at present, is a question of very difficult discussion, and upon 
which I shall not presume to offer an opinion. The failure of 
Wilkins's very ingenious attempt towards a real character and a 
philosophical language, is not perhaps decisive against such a 
project; for not to mention some radical defects in his plan, the 
views of that very eminent philosopher do not seem to have ex- 
tended much further than to promote and extend the literary 
intercourse among different nations. Leibnitz, so far as I know, 
is the only author who has hitherto conceived the possibility of 
aiding the powers of invention and of reasoning, by the use of a 
more convenient instrument of thought: but he has nowhere 
explained his ideas on this very interesting subject. It is only 
from a conversation of his with Mr. Boyle and Mr. Oldenburgh, 
when he was in England, in 1673, and from some imperfect 
hints in different parts of his works, that we find it had engaged 
his attention. In the course of this conversation, he observed, 
that Wilkins had mistaken the true end of a real character, 
which was not merely to enable different nations to correspond 
easily together, but to assist the reason, the invention, and the 
memory. In his writings, too, he somewhere speaks of an alpha- 



ABSTRACTION. 129 

bet of human thoughts, which he had been employed in form- 
ing, and which, probably, (as Fontenelle has remarked,) had 
some relation to his universal language. 

The new nomenclature which has been introduced into chem- 
istry, seems to me to furnish a striking illustration of the effect 
of appropriate and well defined expressions, in aiding the intel- 
lectual powers ; and the period is probably not far distant, 
when similar innovations will be attempted in some of the other 
sciences. 

V. Of the purposes to which the powers of Abstraction and 
Generalization are subservient. — It has been already shown, 
that, without the use of signs, all our knowledge must necessa- 
rily have been limited to individuals, and that we should have 
been perfectly incapable both of classification and general rea- 
soning. Some authors have maintained, that without the power 
of generalization, (which, I have endeavored to show, means 
nothing more than the capacity of employing general terms,) it 
would have been impossible for us to have carried on any spe- 
cies of reasoning whatever. But I cannot help thinking that 
this opinion is erroneous ; or, at least, that it is very imperfectly 
stated. The truth is, it appears to me to be just in one sense 
of the word reasoning, but false in another; and I even suspect 
it is false in that sense of the word in which it is most commonly 
employed. Before, therefore, it is laid down as a general propo- 
sition, the meaning we are to annex to this very vague and am- 
biguous term, should be ascertained with precision. 

One kind of reasoning can be carried on without generaliza- 
tion, and without language. — It has been remarked by several 
writers, that the expectation which we feel of the continuance of 
the laws of nature, is not founded upon reasoning ; and different 
theories have of late been proposed to account for its origin. 
Mr. Hume resolves it into the association of ideas. Dr. Reid, 
on the other hand, maintains, that it is an original principle of 
our constitution, which does not admit of any explanation ; and 
which, therefore, is to be ranked among those general and ulti- 
mate facts, beyond which philosophy is unable to proceed. 
Without this principle of expectation, it would be impossible 



130 ABSTRACTION. 

for us to accommodate our conduct to the established course of 
nature ; and, accordingly, we find that it is a principle coeval 
with our very existence, and, in some measure, common to man 
with the lower animals. 

It is an obvious consequence of this doctrine, that, although 
philosophers be accustomed to state what are commonly called 
the laws of nature in the form of general propositions, it is by 
no means necessary for the practical purposes of life, that we 
should express them in this manner, or even that we should ex- 
press them in words at all. The philosopher, for example, may 
state it as a law of nature, that " fire scorches ; " or that " heavy 
bodies, when unsupported, fall downwards;" but long before 
the use of artificial signs, and even before the dawn of reason, 
a child learns to act upon both of these suppositions. In doing 
so, it is influenced merely by the instinctive principle which has 
now been mentioned, directed in its operation (as is the case 
with many other instincts) by the experience of the individual. 
If man, therefore, had been destined for no other purposes than 
to acquire such an acquaintance with the course of nature as is 
necessary for the preservation of his animal existence, he 
might have fulfilled all the ends of his being without the use of 
language. 

As we are enabled, by our instinctive anticipation of physical 
events, to accommodate our conduct to what we foresee is to 
happen, so we are enabled, in many cases, to increase our pow- 
er, by employing physical causes as instruments for the accom- 
plishment of our purposes ; nay, we can employ a series of such 
causes, so as to accomplish very remote effects. We can em- 
ploy the agency of air, to increase the heat of a furnace ; the 
furnace, to render iron malleable ; and the iron, to all the various 
purposes of the mechanical arts. Now it appears to me, that 
all this may be conceived and done without the aid of language ; 
and yet, assuredly, to discover a series of means subservient to 
a particular end, or, in other words, an effort of mechanical in- 
vention, implies, according to the common doctrines of philoso- 
phers, the exercise of our reasoning powers. In this sense, 
therefore, of the word reasoning, I am inclined to think, that it 



ABSTRACTION. 131 

is not essentially connected with the faculty of generalization, or 
with the use of signs. 

It is some confirmation ,of this conclusion, that savages, whose 
minds are almost wholly occupied with particulars, and who 
have neither inclination nor capacity for general speculations, 
are yet occasionally observed to employ a long train of means 
for accomplishing a particular purpose. Even something of 
this kind, but in a very inferior degree, may, I think, be re- 
marked in the other animals ; and that they do not carry it fur- 
ther, is probably not the effect of their want of generalization, 
but of the imperfection of some of those faculties which are com- 
mon to them with our species ; particularly of their powers of 
attention and recollection. The instances which are commonly 
produced, to prove that they are not destitute of the power of 
reasoning, are all examples of that species of contrivance which 
has been mentioned ; and are perfectly distinct from those intel- 
lectual processes to which the use of signs is essentially subser- 
vient.* 

As a further confirmation of the same doctrine, it may be re- 
marked, that there is no class of speculative men who are in 

* One of the best attested instances which I have met with, of sagacity 
in the lower animals, is mentioned by M. Bailly, in his " Lettre sur les 
Animaux," addressed to M. Le Roy : — 

[" One of my friends, an intelligent and trustworthy man, related to me 
two facts of which he was an eye-witness. He had a very sagacious mon- 
key, and was wont to amuse himself by giving it nuts, which it was very 
fond of; but he placed them so far off, that the monkey, being held back 
by its chain, could not reach them. After many unsuccessful efforts, 
which served only to sharpen its invention, the monkey, seeing a servant 
pass by with a napkin under his arm, caught the napkin from him, and 
made use of it to brush the nut within reach. The mode of cracking the 
nut required a new invention ; the monkey succeeded by placing the nut 
on the ground, and letting a stone fall on it from above, so as to break it. 
You sec, Sir, that without knowing as well as Galileo the laws of falling 
bodies, the monkey had observed the force which these bodies acquire by 
falling. But it once happened that this expedient failed. One rainy day, 
the ground was soft, and the nut sunk into it without breaking. What did 
the monkey do 1 He found a piece of tile, on which ho placed the nut, 
and then the fall of the stone broke it, without driving it into the ground.'' 



132 ABSTRACTION. 

general so much at a loss to convey their ideas as men of me- 
chanical invention. This, I think, can only arise from their 
being accustomed to direct their attention immediately to the 
subjects of their consideration, without the use of signs. Phi 
losophers who speculate on questions which require the employ- 
ment of words as an instrument of thought, are seldom deficient 
in a facility of expression. 

Whether that particular species of mechanical contrivance 
which has now been mentioned, and which consists merely in 
employing a series of physical causes to accomplish an effect 
which we cannot produce immediately, should or should not be 
dignified with the name of reasoning, I shall not now inquire. It 
is sufficient for my present purpose to remark, that it is essen- 
tially different from those intellectual processes to which the use 
of signs is indispensably necessary. At the same time, I am 
ready to acknowledge, that what I have now said, is not strictly 
applicable to those more complicated mechanical inventions, in 
which a variety of powers are made to conspire at once to pro- 
duce a particular effect. Such contrivances, perhaps, may be 
found to involve processes of the mind which cannot be carried 
on without signs. But these questions will fall more properly 
under our consideration when we enter on the subject of rea- 
soning. 

When words are necessary to thought. — In general, it may be 
remarked, that in so far as our thoughts relate merely to indi- 
vidual objects, or to individual events, which we have actually 



(We need not question the good faith of the reporter of this anecdote. 
The only doubt is, whether the animal had not previously, without his 
knowledge, been taught how to use these expedients.)! 

But admitting the facts to be accurately stated, they will still leave an 
essential distinction between man and brutes ; for in none of the contri- 
vances here mentioned, is there any thing analogous to those intellectual 
processes which lead the mind to general conclusions, and which (accord- 
ing to the foregoing doctrine) imply the use of general terms. Those 
powers, therefore, which enable us to classify objects, and to employ signs 
as an instrument of thought, are, as far as we can judge, peculiar to the hu- 
man species. 



ABSTRACTION. 133 

perceived, and of which we retain a distinct remembrance,* 
we are not under the necessity of employing words. It fre- 
quently, however, happens* that when the subjects of our con- 
sideration are particular, our reasoning with respect to them 
may involve very general notions ; and, in such cases, although 
we may conceive, without the use of words, the things about 
which we reason, yet we must necessarily have recourse to lan- 
guage in carrying on our speculations concerning them. If the 
subjects of our reasonings be general, (under which description 
I include all our reasonings, whether more or less comprehen- 
sive, which do not relate merely to individuals,) words are the 
sole objects about which our thoughts are employed. According 
as these words are comprehensive or limited in their signification, 
the conclusions we form will be more or less general ; but this 
accidental circumstance does not in the least affect the nature of 
the intellectual process ; so that it may be laid down as a propo- 
sition which holds without any exception, that in every case in 
which we extend our speculations beyond individuals, language 
is not only a useful auxiliary, but is the sole instrument by 
which they are carried on. 

Difference between the speculations of the philosopher and of the 

* I have thought it proper to add this limitation of the general propo- 
sition, because individual objects, and individual events, which have not 
fallen under the examination of our senses, cannot possibly be made the 
subject of our consideration but by means of language. The manner in 
which we think of such objects and events, is accurately described in the 
following passage of Wollaston ; however un philosophical the conclusion 
may be which he deduces from his reasoning. g 

" A man is not known ever the more to posterity, because his name is 
transmitted to them ; he doth not live, because his name does. When it 
is said, Julius Caesar subdued Gaul, beat Pompey, changed the common- 
wealth into a monarchy, etc., it is the same thing as to say the conqueror 
of Pompey was Caesar; that is, Caesar, and the conqueror of Pompey, are 
the same thing ; and Caesar is as much known by the one distinction as 
the other. The amount is only this : that the conqueror of Pompey con- 
quered Pompey ; or somebody conquered Pompey ; or rather, since Pom- 
pey is as little known now as Caesar, somebody conquered somebody. 
Such a poor business is this boasted immortality ; and such, as has been 
here described, is the thing called glory among us ! " 

12 



134 ABSTRACTION. 

vulgar. — These remarks naturally lead me to take notice of what 
forms the characteristical distinction between the speculations 
of the philosopher and of the vulgar. It is not, that the former 
is accustomed to carry on his processes of reasoning to a greater 
extent than the latter ; but that the conclusions he is accustomed 
to form, are far more comprehensive, in consequence of the 
habitual employment of more comprehensive terms. Among 
the most unenlightened of mankind, we often meet with indi- 
viduals who possess the reasoning faculty in a very eminent 
degree ; but as this faculty is employed merely about particulars, 
it never can conduct them to general truths ; and, of conse- 
quence, whether their pursuits in life lead them to speculation 
or to action, it can only fit them for distinguishing themselves 
in some very limited and subordinate sphere. The philosopher, 
whose mind has been familiarized by education, and by his own 
reflections, to the correct use of more comprehensive terms, is 
enabled, without perhaps a greater degree of intellectual exer- 
tion than is necessary for managing the details of ordinary 
business, to arrive at general theorems ; which, when illustrated 
to the lower classes of men, in their particular applications, 
seem to indicate a fertility of invention little short of super- 
natural.* 

The analogy of the algebraical art may be of use in illus 
trating these observations. The difference, in fact, between 
the investigations we carry on by its assistance, and other pro- 
cesses of reasoning, is more inconsiderable than is commonly 
imagined ; and, if I am not mistaken, amounts only to this, that 



* u General reasonings seem intricate merely because they are general ; 
nor is it easy for the bulk of mankind to distinguish, in a great number of 
particulars, that common circumstance in which they all agree, or to ex- 
tract it pure and unmixt, from the other superfluous circumstances. Every 
judgment or conclusion with them is particular. They cannot enlarge 
their view to those universal propositions, which comprehend under them 
an infinite number of individuals, and include a whole science in a single 
theorem. Their eye is confounded with such an extensive prospect ; and 
the conclusions derived from it, even though clearly expressed, seem intri- 
cate and obscure." — Hume's Political Discourses. 



ABSTRACTION. 135 

the former are expressed in an appropriated language, with 
which we are not accustomed to associate particular notions. 
Hence they exhibit the efficacy of signs as an instrument of 
thought in a more distinct and palpable manner, than the 
speculations we carry on by words, which are continually 
awakening the power of conception. 

When the celebrated Vieta showed algebraists, that, by sub- 
stituting in their investigations letters of the alphabet, instead 
of known quantities, they might render the solution of every 
problem subservient to the discovery of a general truth, he did 
not increase the difficulty of algebraical reasonings: he only 
enlarged the signification of the terms of which they were ex- 
pressed. And if, in teaching that science, it is found expedient 
to accustom students to solve problems by means of the par- 
ticular numbers which are given, before they are made ac- 
quainted with literal or specious arithmetic, it is not because 
the former processes are less intricate than the latter, but be- 
cause their scope and utility are more obvious, and because it 
is more easy to illustrate, by example than by words, the differ- 
ence between a particular conclusion and a general theorem. 

The difference between the intellectual processes of the 
vulgar and of the philosopher, is perfectly analogous to that be- 
tween the two states of the algebraical art before and after the 
time of Vieta ; the general terms which are used in the various 
sciences, giving to those who can employ them with correctness 
and dexterity, the same sort of advantage over the uncultivated 
sagacity of the bulk of mankind, which the expert algebraist 
possesses over the arithmetical accountant. 

The utility of language. — If the foregoing doctrine be ad- 
mitted as just, it exhibits a view of the utility of language, 
which appears to me to be peculiarly striking and beautiful ; as 
it shows that the same faculties which, without the use of signs, 
must necessarily have been limited to the consideration of indi- 
vidual objects and particular events, are, by means of signs, 
fitted to embrace, without effort, those comprehensive theorems, 
to the discovery of which, in detail, the united efforts of the 
whole human race would have been uneoual. The advantage 



136 ABSTRACTION. 

our animal strength acquires by the use of mechanical engines, 
exhibits but a faint image of that increase of our intellectual 
capacity which we owe to language. It is this increase of our 
natural powers of comprehension, which seems to be the prin- 
cipal foundation of the pleasure we receive from the discovery 
of general theorems. Such a discovery gives us at once the 
command of an infinite variety of particular truths, and com- 
municates to the mind a sentiment of its own power, not unlike 
to what we feel when we contemplate the magnitude of those 
physical effects, of which we have acquired the command by 
our mechanical contrivances. 

It may perhaps appear, at first, to be a further consequence 
of the principles I have been endeavoring to establish, that the 
difficulty of philosophical discoveries is much less than is com- 
monly imagined ; but the truth is, it only follows from them, 
that this difficulty is of a different nature from what we are apt 
to suppose, on a superficial view of the subject. To employ, 
with skill, the very delicate instrument which nature has made 
essentially subservient to general reasoning, and to guard 
against the errors which result from an injudicious use of it, 
require an uncommon capacity of patient attention, and a 
cautious circumspection in conducting our various intellectual 
processes, which can only be acquired by early habits of philo- 
sophical reflection. To assist and direct us in making this ac- 
quisition ought to form the most important branch of a rational 
logic ; a science of far more extensive utility, and of which the 
principles lie much deeper in the philosophy of the human 
mind, than the trifling art which is commonly dignified with 
that name. The branch in particular to which the foregoing 
observations more immediately relate, must for ever remain in 
its infancy, till a most difficult and important desideratum in 
the history of the mind is supplied, by an explanation of the 
gradual steps by which it acquires the use of the various classes 
of words which compose the language of a cultivated and en- 
lightened people. Of some of the errors of reasoning to which 
we are exposed by an incautious use of words, I took notice in 
the preceding section ; and I shall have occasion afterwards to 



ABSTRACTION. 137 

treat the same subject more in detail in a subsequent part of 
my work. 

VI. Of the errors to which we are liable in speculation, ana 
in the conduct of affairs, in consequence of a rash applica- 
tion of general principles. — It appears sufficiently from the 
reasonings which I offered in the preceding section, how im- 
portant are the advantages which the philosopher acquires, by 
quitting the study of particulars, and directing his attention to 
general principles. I natter myself it appears further, from 
the same reasonings, that it is in consequence of the use of 
language alone that the human mind is rendered capable of 
these comprehensive speculations. 

In order, however, to proceed with safety in the use of gen- 
eral principles, much caution and address are necessary, both in 
establishing their truth, and in applying them to practice. 
Without a proper attention to the circumstances by which their 
application to particular cases must be modified, they will be a 
perpetual source of mistake and of disappointment, in the con- 
duct of affairs, however rigidly just they may be in themselves, 
and however accurately we may reason from them. If our 
general principles happen to be false, they will involve us in 
errors, not only of conduct but of speculation ; and our errors 
will be the more numerous, the more comprehensive the prin- 
ciples are on which we proceed. 

To illustrate these observations fully, would lead to a minute- 
ness of disquisition inconsistent with my general plan : and I 
shall therefore, at present, confine myself to such remarks as 
appear to be of most essential importance. 

Mistakes of the ancients respecting the study of universals. — 
And, in the first place, it is evidently impossible to establish 
solid general principles, without the previous study of particu- 
lars : in other words, it is necessary to begin with the examin- 
ation of individual objects, and individual events, in order to 
lay a groundwork for accurate classification, and for a just in- 
vestigation of the laws of nature. It is in this way only that 
we can expect to arrive at general principles,- which may be 
safely relied on, as guides to the knowledge of particular truths 

12* 



138 ABSTRACTION. 

and unless our principles admit of such a practical, application, 
however beautiful they may appear to be in theory, they are of 
far less value than the limited acquisitions of the vulgar. The 
truth of these remarks is now so universally admitted, and is 
indeed so obvious in itself, that it would be superfluous to multi- 
ply words in supporting them ; and I should scarcely have 
thought of stating them in this chapter, if some of the most 
celebrated philosophers of antiquity had not been led to dispute 
them, in consequence of the mistaken opinions which they 
entertained concerning the nature of universals. Forgetting 
that genera and species are mere arbitrary creations, which the 
human mind forms by withdrawing the attention from the dis- 
tinguishing qualities of objects, and giving a common name to 
their resembling qualities, they conceive universals to be real 
existences, or (as they expressed it) to be the essences of indi- 
viduals ; and flattered themselves with the belief, that by direct- 
ing their attention to these essences in the first instance, they 
might be enabled to penetrate the secrets of the universe, with- 
out submitting to the study of nature in detail. These errors, 
which were common to the Platonists and the Peripatetics, and 
which both of them seem to have adopted from the Pythagorean 
school, contributed, perhaps more than any thing else, to retard 
the progress of the ancients in physical knowledge. The late 
learned Mr. Harris is almost the only author of the present 
age who has ventured to defend this plan of philosophizing, in 
opposition to that which has been so successfully followed by 
the disciples of Lord Bacon. 

" The Platonists," says he, " considering science as something 
ascertained, definite, and steady, would admit nothing to be its 
object which was vague, indefinite, and passing. For this rea- 
son, they excluded all individuals or objects of sense, and (as 
Amonius expresses it) raised themselves in their contemplations 
from beings particular to beings universal, and which, from their 
own nature, were eternal and definite." " Consonant to this 
was the advice of Plato, with respect to the progress of our 
speculations and inquiries, to descend from those higher genera, 
which include many subordinate species, down to the lowest 



ABSTRACTION. 139 

rank of species, those which include only individuals. But here 
it was his opinion, that our inquiries should stop, and, as to indi- 
viduals, let them wholly alone ; because of these there could not 
possibly be any science." 

" Such," continues this author, " was the method of ancient 
philosophy. The fashion, at present, appears to be somewhat 
altered, and the business of philosophers to be little else than 
the collecting from every quarter, into voluminous records, an 
infinite number of sensible, particular, and unconnected facts, 
the chief effect of which is to excite our admiration." In 
another part of his works, the same author observes, that " the 
mind, truly wise, quitting the study of particulars, as knowing 
their multitude to be infinite and incomprehensible, turns its 
intellectual eye to what is general and comprehensive, and, 
through generals, learns to see and recognize whatever exists." 

If we abstract from these obvious errors of the ancient phi- 
losophers, with respect to the proper order to be observed in 
our inquiries, and only suppose them to end where the Platon- 
ists said that they should begin, the magnificent encomiums 
they bestowed on the utility of those comprehensive truths 
which form the object of science, (making allowance for the 
obscure and mysterious terms in which they expressed them,) 
can scarcely be regarded as extravagant. It is probable that, 
from a few accidental instances of successful investigation, they 
had been struck with the wonderful effect of general principles 
in increasing the intellectual power of the human mind ; and, 
misled by that impatience in the study of particulars, which is 
so often connected with the consciousness of superior ability, 
they labored to persuade themselves, that, by a life devoted to 
abstract meditation, such principles might be rendered as imme- 
diate objects of intellectual perception, as the individuals which 
compose the material world are of our external senses. By 
connecting this opinion with their other doctrines concerning 
universals, they were unfortunately enabled to exhibit it in so 
mysterious a form, as not only to impose on themselves, but to 
perplex the understanding of all the learned in Europe for a 
long succession of ages. 



140 ABSTRACTION. 

The progress of human knowledge from particulars to univer~ 
sals. — The conclusion to which we are led by the foregoing 
observations is, that the foundation of all human knowledge 
must be laid in the examination of particular objects and par- 
ticular facts ; and that it is only as far as our general principles 
are resolvable into these primary elements, that they possess 
either truth or utility. It must not, however, be understood to 
be implied in this conclusion, that all our knowledge must ulti- 
mately rest on our own proper experience. If this were the 
case, the progress of science, and the progress of human im- 
provement, must have been wonderfully retarded ; for, if it had 
been necessary for each individual to form a classification of 
objects, in consequence of observations and abstractions of his 
own, and to infer from the actual examination of particular 
facts, the general truths on which his conduct proceeds ; human 
affairs would at this day remain nearly in the same state to 
which they were brought by the experience of the first genera- 
tion. In fact, this is very nearly the situation of the species in 
all those parts of the world, in which the existence of the race 
depends on the separate efforts which each individual makes, in 
procuring for himself the necessaries of life ; and in which, of 
consequence, the habits and acquirements of each individual 
must be the result of his own personal experience. In a culti- 
vated society, one of the first acquisitions which children make, 
is the use of language ; by which means they are familiarized, 
from their earliest years, to the consideration of classes of ob- 
jects, and of general truths ; and before that time of life at 
which the savage is possessed of the knowledge necessary for 
his own preservation, are enabled to appropriate to themselves 
the accumulated discoveries of ages. 

Notwithstanding, however, the stationary condition in which 
the race must, of necessity, continue, prior to the separation of 
arts and professions, the natural disposition of the mind to 
ascend from particular truths to general conclusions, could not 
fail to lead individuals, even in the rudest state of society, to 
collect the results of their experience, for their own instruction 
and that of others. But, without the use of general terms, the 



ABSTRACTION. 141 

only possible way of communicating such conclusions, would be 
by means of some particular example, of which the general ap- 
plication was striking and obvious. In other words, the wisdom 
of such ages will necessarily be expressed in the form of fables 
or parables, or in the still simpler form of proverbial instances ; 
and not in the scientific form of general maxims. In this way, 
undoubtedly, much useful instruction, both of a prudential and 
moral kind, might be conveyed : at the same time, it is obvious, 
that while general truths continue to be expressed merely by 
particular exemplifications, they would afford little or no oppor- 
tunity to one generation to improve on the speculations of 
another ; as no effort of the understanding could combine them 
together, or employ them as premises, in order to obtain other 
conclusions more remote and comprehensive. For this purpose, 
it is absolutely necessary, that the scope or moral of the fable 
should be separated entirely from its accessory circumstances, 
and stated in the form of a general proposition. 

Probable intellectual improvement of future ages. — From 
what has now been said, it appears how much the progress of 
human reason, which necessarily accompanies the progress of 
society, is owing to the introduction of general terms, and to the 
use of general propositions. In consequence of the gradual im- 
provements which take place in language as an instrument of 
thought, the classifications both of things and facts, with which 
the infant faculties of each successive race are conversant, are 
more just and more comprehensive than those of their prede- 
cessors : the discoveries which, in one age, were confined to the 
studious and enlightened few, becoming in the next the estab- 
lished creed of the learned ; and in the third, forming part of 
the elementary principles of education. Indeed, among those 
who enjoy the advantages of early instruction, some of the most 
remote and wonderful conclusions of the human intellect are, 
even in infancy, as completely familiarized to the mind, as the 
most obvious phenomena which the material world exhibits to 
their senses. 

If these remarks be just, they open an unbounded prospect 
of intellectual improvement to future ages ; as they point out a 



142 ABSTRACTION. 

provision made by nature to facilitate and abridge, more and 
more, the process of study, in proportion as the truths to be 
acquired increase in number. Nor is this prospect derived 
from theory alone. It is encouraged by the past history of all 
the sciences ; in a more particular manner, by that of mathe- 
matics and physics, in which the state of discovery, and the 
prevailing methods of instruction, may, at all times, be easily 
compared together. In this last observation I have been an- 
ticipated by a late eminent mathematician, whose eloquent and 
philosophical statement of the argument cannot fail to carry 
conviction to those who are qualified to judge of the facts on 
which his conclusion is founded. 

" To such of my readers as may be slow in admitting the 
possibility of this progressive improvement in the human race, 
allow me to state, as an example, the history of that science in 
which the advances of discovery are the most certain, and in 
which they may be measured with the greatest precision. Those 
elementary truths of geometry and of astronomy, which, in 
India and Egypt, formed an occult science, upon which an am- 
bitious priesthood founded its influence, were become, in times 
of Archimedes and Hipparchus, the subjects of common edu- 
cation in the public schools of Greece. In the last century, a 
few years of study were sufficient for comprehending all that 
Archimedes and Hipparchus knew ; and, at present, two years 
employed under an able teacher, carry the student beyond 
those conclusions which limited the inquiries of Leibnitz and 
of Newton. Let any person reflect on these facts, let him 
follow the immense chain which connects the inquiries of Euler 
with those of a priest of Memphis ; let him observe at each 
epoch, how genius outstrips the present age, and how it is over- 
taken by mediocrity in the next ; he will perceive, that nature 
has furnished us with the means of abridging and facilitating 
our intellectual labor, and that there is no reason for apprehend- 
ing that such simplifications can ever have an end. He will 
perceive, that at the moment when a multitude of particular 
solutions, and of insulated facts, begin to distract the attention, 
and to overcharge the memory, the former gradually lose them- 



ABSTRACTION. 143 

selves in one general method, and the latter unite in one general 
law: and that these generalizations continually succeeding one 
to another, like the successive multiplications of a number by 
itself, have no other limit, than that infinity which the human 
faculties are unable to comprehend." 

VII. Differences in the intellectual characters of individuals 
arising from their different habits of abstraction and general- 
ization. — In mentioning as one of the principal effects of civil' 
ization, its tendency to familiarize the mind to general terms 
and to general propositions, I did not mean to say, that this 
influence extends equally to all the classes of men in society. 
On the contrary, it is evidently confined, in a great measure, to 
those who receive a liberal education ; while the minds of the 
lower orders, like those of savages, are so habitually occupied 
about particular objects and particular events, that, although 
they are sometimes led from imitation, to employ general ex- 
pressions, the use which they make of them is much more the 
result of memory than judgment ; and it is but seldom that they 
are able to comprehend fully any process of reasoning in which 
they are involved. 

It is hardly necessary for me to remark, that this observation 
with respect to the incapacity of the vulgar for general specu- 
lations, (like all observations of a similar nature,) must be re- 
ceived with some restrictions. In such a state of society as 
that in which we live, there is hardly any individual to be found 
to whom some general terms, and some general truths, are not 
perfectly familiar ; and, therefore, the foregoing conclusions are 
to be considered as descriptive of those habits of thought alone, 
which are most prevalent in their mind. To abridge the labor 
of reasoning and of memory, by directing the attention to 
general principles, instead of particular truths, is the professed 
aim of all philosophy ; and according as individuals have more 
or Jess of the philosophic spirit, their habitual speculations 
(whatever the nature of their pursuits may be) will relate to 
the former, or to the latter, of these objects. 

The differences between practical men and philosophers. — 
There are, therefore, among the men who are accustomed to the 



144 ABSTRACTION. 

exercise of their intellectual powers, two classes, whose habits 
of thought are remarkably distinguished from each other ; the 
one class comprehending what we commonly call men of busi- 
ness, or, more properly, men of detail ; the other, men of ab- 
straction ; or, in other words, philosophers. 

The advantages which, in certain respects, the latter of these 
possess* over the former, have been already pointed out ; but it 
must not be supposed, that these advantages are always pur- 
chased without some inconvenience. As the solidity of our 
general principles depends on the accuracy of the particular 
observations into which they are ultimately resolvable, so their 
utility is to be estimated by the practical applications of which 
they admit ; and it unfortunately happens, that the same turn of 
mind which is favorable to philosophical pursuits, unless it be. 
kept under proper regulation, is extremely apt to disqualify us 
for applying our knowledge to use, in the exercise of the arts and 
in the conduct of affairs. 

The danger of applying abstract principles incautiously. — In 
order to perceive the truth of these remarks, it is almost suf- 
ficient to recollect, that as classifications, and, of consequence, 
general reasoning, presupposes the exercise of abstraction; a 
natural disposition to indulge in them, cannot fail to lead the 
mind to overlook the specific differences of things, in attending 
to their common qualities. To succeed, however, in practice, a 
familiar and circumstantial acquaintance with the particular 
objects which fall under our observation, is indispensably neces- 
sary. 

But further : As all general principles are founded on classi- 
fications which imply the exercise of abstraction, it is neces- 
sary to regard them, in their practical applications, merely as 
approximations to the truth; the defects of which must be sup- 
plied by habits acquired by personal experience. In consider- 
ing, for example, the theory of the mechanical powers ; it is 
usual to simplify the objects of our conception, by abstracting 
from friction, and from the weight of the different parts of 
which they are composed. Levers are considered as mathe- 
matical lines, perfectly inflexible ; and ropes, as mathematical 



ABSTRACTION. , 145 

lines, perfectly flexible ; — and by means of these, and similar 
abstractions, a subject, which is in itself extremely complicated, 
is brought within the reach of elementary geometry. In the 
theory of politics, we find it necessary to abstract from many 
of the peculiarities which distinguish different forms of govern- 
ment from each other, and to reduce them to certain general 
classes, according to their prevailing tendency. Although all 
the governments we have ever seen, have had more or less of 
mixture in their composition, we reason concerning pure mon- 
archies, pure aristocracies, and pure democracies, as if there 
really existed political establishments corresponding to our defi- 
nitions. Without such a classification, it would be impossible 
for us to fix our attention, amidst the multiplicity of particulars 
which the subject presents to us, or to arrive at any general 
principles, which might serve to guide our inquiries in com- 
paring different institutions together. 

It is for a similar reason, that the speculative farmer reduces 
the infinite variety of soils to a few general descriptions ; the 
physician, the infinite variety of bodily constitutions to a few 
temperaments ; and the moralist, the infinite variety of human 
characters to a few of the ruling principles of action. 

Notwithstanding, however, the obvious advantages we derive 
from these classifications, and the general conclusions to which 
they lead, it is evidently impossible that principles, which de- 
rived their origin from efforts of abstraction, should apply liter- 
ally to practice ; or, indeed, that they should afford us any 
considerable assistance in conduct, without a certain degree of 
practical and experimental skill. Hence it is, that the mere 
theorist so frequently exposes himself, in real life, to the ridicule 
of men whom he despises, and, in the general estimation of the 
world, falls below the level of the common drudges in business 
and the arts. The walk, indeed, of these unenlightened prac- 
titioners, must necessarily be limited by their accidental oppor- 
tunities of experience ; but, so far as they go, they operate 
with facility and success, while the merely speculative philos- 
opher, although possessed of principles which enable him to 
approximate to the truth in an infinite variety of untried cases, 

13 



146 ABSTRACTION. 

and although he sees with pity the narrow views of the multi- 
tude, and the ludicrous pretensions with which they frequently 
oppose their trifling successes to his theoretical speculations, 
finds himself perfectly at a loss when he is called upon, by the 
simplest occurrences of ordinary life, to carry his principles 
into execution. Hence the origin of that maxim " which," as 
Hume remarks, " has been so industriously propagated by the 
dunces of every age, that a man of genius is unfit for business." 
What practical skill consists in. — In what consists practical 
or experimental skill, it is not easy to explain completely; 
but among other things, it obviously implies a talent for minute 
and comprehensive and rapid observation ; a memory at once 
retentive and ready, in order to present to us accurately, and 
without reflection, our theoretical knowledge ; a presence of 
mind not to be disconcerted by unexpected occurrences, and, in 
some cases, an uncommon degree of perfection in the external 
senses, and in the mechanical capacities of the body. All these 
elements of practical skill, it is obvious, are to be acquired only 
by habits of active exertion, and by a familiar acquaintance 
with real occurrences ; for as all the practical principles of our 
nature, both intellectual and animal, have a reference to par- 
ticulars, and not to generals, so it is in the active scenes of life 
alone, and amidst the details of business, that they can be culti- 
vated and improved. 

Experience and practical skill not sufficient for all occasions. — 
The remarks which have been already made are sufficient to 
illustrate the impossibility of acquiring talent for business, or 
for any of the practical arts of life, without actual experience. 
They show, also, that mere experience, without theory, may 
qualify a man, in certain cases, for distinguishing himself in 
in both. It is not, however, to be imagined that, in this way, 
individuals are to be formed for the uncommon, or for the im- 
portant situations of society, or even for enriching the arts by 
new inventions ; for as their address and dexterity are founded 
entirely on imitation, or derived from the lessons which experi- 
ence has suggested to them, they cannot possibly extend to new 
combinations of circumstances. Mere experience, therefore, 



ABSTRACTION. 147 

can, at best, prepare the mind for the subordinate departments 
of life, for conducting the established routine of business, or for 
a servile repetition in the arts ,of common operations. 

In the character of Mr. George Grenville, which Mr. Burke 
introduced in his celebrated speech on American Taxation, a 
lively picture is drawn of the insufficiency of mere experience 
to qualify a man for new and untried situations in the adminis- 
tration of government. The observations he makes on this 
subject are expressed with his usual beauty and felicity of lan- 
guage, and are of so general a nature, that, with some trifling 
alterations, they may be extended to all the practical pursuits 
of life. 

" Mr. Grenville was bred to the law, which is, in my opinion, 
one of the finest and noblest of human sciences ; a science 
which does more to quicken and invigorate the understanding, 
than all the other kinds of learning put together ; but it is not 
apt, except in persons very happily born, to open and to liberal- 
ize the mind exactly in the same proportion. Passing from 
that study, he did not go very largely into the world, but 
plunged into business, I mean into the business of office, and 
the limited and fixed methods and forms established there. 
Much knowledge is to be had, undoubtedly, in that line, and 
there is no knowledge which is not valuable. But it may be 
truly said, that men too much conversant in office are rarely 
minds of remarkable enlargement. Their habits of office are 
apt to give them a turn to think the substance of business not 
to be much more important than the forms in which it is con- 
ducted. These forms are adapted to ordinary occasions ; and, 
therefore, persons who are nurtured in office do admirably well, 
as long as things go on in their common order ; but when the 
high roads are broken up, and the waters out, when a new and 
troubled scene is opened, and the file affords no precedent, then 
it is, that a greater knowledge of mankind, and a far more ex- 
tensive comprehension of things is requisite, than ever office 
gave, or than office can ever give." 

Nor is it in new combinations of circumstances alone, that 
general principles assist us in the conduct of affairs; they 



14:8 ABSTRACTION. 

render the application of our practical skill more unerring and 
more perfect. For as general principles limit the utility of 
practical skill to supply the imperfections of theory, they 
diminish the number of cases in which this skill is to be em- 
ployed, and thus at once facilitate its improvement wherever it 
is requisite, and lessen the errors to which it is liable, by con- 
tracting the field within which it is possible to commit them. 

It would appear, then, that there are two opposite extremes 
into which men are apt to fall, in preparing themselves for the 
duties of active life. The one rises from habits of abstraction and 
generalization carried to an excess ; the other, from a minute, 
an exclusive, and an unenlightened attention to the objects and 
events which happen to fall under their actual experience. 

A good education would guard against both extremes. — In a 
perfect system of education, care should be taken to guard 
against both extremes, and to unite habits of abstraction with 
habits of business, in such a manner as to enable men to con- 
sider things either in general, or in detail, as the occasion may 
require. Whichever of these habits may happen to gain an 
undue ascendant over the mind, it will necessarily produce a 
character limited in its powers, and fitted only for particular 
exertions. Hence some of the apparent inconsistencies which 
we may frequently remark in the intellectual capacities of the 
same person. One man, from an early indulgence in abstract 
speculation, possesses a knowledge of general principles, and a 
talent for general reasoning, united with a fluency and eloquence 
in the use of general terms, which seem, to the vulgar, to an- 
nounce abilities fitted for any given situation in life ; while, in 
the conduct of the simplest affairs, he exhibits every mark of 
irresolution and incapacity. Another not only acts with pro 
priety and skill in circumstances which require a minute at- 
tention to details, but possesses an acuteness of reasoning, and 
a facility of expression on all subjects, in which nothing but 
what is particular is involved ; while on general topics, he is 
perfectly unable either to reason or to judge. It is this last 
turn of mind, which I think we have, in most instances, in 
view, when we speak of good, sense, or common sense, in oppo- 



ABSTRACTION. 149 

sition to science and philosophy. Both philosophy and good 
sense imply the exercise of our reasoning powers ; and they 
differ from each other only according as these powers are ap- 
plied to particulars or to generals. It is on good sense (in the 
acceptation in which I have now explained the term), that the 
success of men in the inferior walks of life chiefly depends ; 
but, that it does not always indicate capacity for abstract science 
or for general speculation, or for able conduct in situations 
which require comprehensive views, is matter even of vulgar 
remark. 

Natural superiority of the men of general views. — Although, 
however, each of these defects has a tendency to limit the 
utility of the individuals in whom it ig to be found, to certain 
stations in society ; no comparison can be made, in point of 
original value, between the intellectual capacities of the two 
classes of men to which they characteristically belong. The 
one is the defect of a vigorous, an ambitious, and a compre- 
hensive genius, improperly directed ; the other, of an under- 
standing minute and circumscribed in its views, timid in its ex- 
ertions, and formed for servile imitation. Nor is the former 
defect, (however difficult it may be to remove it when confirmed 
by long habit,) by any means so incurable as the latter ; for it 
arises, not from original constitution, but from some fault in 
early education ; while every tendency to the opposite extreme 
is more or less characteristical of a mind, useful, indeed, in a 
high degree, when confined to its proper sphere, but destined, 
by the hand that formed it, to borrow its lights from another. 

As an additional proof of the natural superiority which men 
of general views possess over the common drudges in business, 
it may be further observed, that the habits of inattention inci- 
dent to the former arise in part from the little interest which 
they take in particular objects and particular occurrences, and 
are not wholly to be ascribed to an incapacity of attention. 
When the mind has been long accustomed to the consideration 
of classes of objects and of comprehensive theorems, it cannot, 
without some degree of effort, descend to that humble walk of 
experience, or of action, in which the meanest of mankind are 
13* 



150 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

on a level with the greatest. In important situations, accord- 
ingly, men of the most general views are found not to be in- 
ferior to the vulgar in their attention to details ; because the 
objects and occurrences which such situations present, rouse 
their passions, and interest their curiosity, from the magnitude 
of the consequences to which they lead. 

"When theoretical knowledge and practical skill are happily 
combined in the same person, the intellectual power of man 
appears in its full perfection ; and fits him equally to conduct, 
with a masterly hand, the details of ordinary business, and to 
contend successfully with the untried difficulties of new and 
hazardous situations. In conducting the former, mere experi- 
ence may frequently be a sufficient guide ; but experience and 
speculation must be combined together to prepare us for the 
latter. " Expert men," says Lord Bacon, " can execute and 
judge of particulars one by one ; but the general counsels, and 
the plots, and the marshalling of affairs, come best from those 
that are learned." 



CHAPTER V. 

OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

The subject on which I am now to enter, naturally divides 
itself into Two Parts. The First relates to the influence of 
Association in regulating the succession of our thoughts ; the 
Second, to its influence on the intellectual powers, and on the 
moral character, by the more intimate and indissoluble combi- 
nations which it leads us to form in infancy and in early youth. 
The two inquiries, indeed, run into each other ; but it will con- 
tribute much to the order of our speculations, to keep the fore- 
going arrangement in view. 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 151 



PART I. 

OP THE INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION IN REGULATING THE 
SUCCESSION OF OUR THOUGHTS. 

§ I. General Observations on this Part of our Constitution, 
and on the Language of Philosophers with respect to it. — That 
one thought is often suggested to the mind by another; and 
that the sight of an external object often recalls former occur- 
rences, and revives former feelings, are facts which are per- 
fectly familiar, even to those who are the least disposed to 
speculate concerning the principles of their nature. In passing 
along a road which we have formerly travelled in the company 
of a friend, the particulars of the conversation in which we were 
then engaged, are frequently suggested to us by the objects we 
meet with. In such a scene, we recollect that a particular 
subject was started; and in passing the different houses, and 
plantations, and rivers, the arguments we were discussing when 
we last saw them, recur spontaneously to the memory. The 
connection which is formed in the mind between the words of a 
language and the ideas they denote ; the connection which is 
formed between the different words of a discourse we have 
committed to memory; the connection between the different 
notes of a piece of music in the mind of the musician, are all 
obvious instances of the same general law of our nature. 

The influence of perceptible objects in reviving former 
thoughts and former feelings, is more particularly remarkable. 
After time has, in some degree, reconciled us to the death of a 
friend, how wonderfully are we affected the first time we enter 
the house where he lived. Every thing we see ; the apartment 
where he studied ; the chair upon which he sat, recall to us the 
happiness we have enjoyed together ; and we should feel it a 
sort of violation of that respect we owe to his memory, to engage 
in any light or indifferent discourse when such objects arc 
before us. In the case, too, of those remarkable scenes which 
interest the curiosity, from the memorable persons or transac- 



152 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

tions which we have been accustomed to connect with them in 
the course of our studies, the fancy is more awakened by the 
actual perception of the scene itself, than by the mere concep- 
tion or imagination of it. Hence the pleasure we enjoy in 
visiting classical ground; in beholding the retreats which in- 
spired the genius of our favorite authors, or the fields which 
have been dignified by exertions of heroic virtue. How feeble 
are the emotions produced by the liveliest conception of modern 
Italy, to what the poet felt, when, amidst the ruins of Rome, 

" He drew th' inspiring breath of ancient arts, 

And trod the sacred walks 

Where, at each step, imagination burns ! " 

The well-known effect of a particular tune on Swiss regi 
ments, when at a distance from home, furnishes a very striking 
illustration of the peculiar power of a perception, or of an 
impression on the senses, to awaken associated thoughts and 
feelings ; and numberless facts of a similar nature must have 
occurred to every person of moderate sensibility, in the course 
of his own experience. 

"Whilst we were at dinner," says Captain King, "in this 
miserable hut, on the banks of the river Awatska, the guests 
of a people with whose existence we had before been scarce ac- 
quainted, and at the extremity of the habitable globe ; a solitary, 
half-worn pewter spoon, whose shape was familiar to us, attracted 
our attention; and, on examination, we found it stamped on 
the back with the word London. I cannot pass over this cir- 
cumstance in silence, out of gratitude for the many pleasant 
thoughts, the anxious hopes, and tender remembrances, it 
excited in us. Those who have experienced the effects that 
long absence, and extreme distance from their native country, 
produce on the mind, will readily conceive the pleasure such 
a trifling incident can give." 

The difference between the effect of a perception and an 
idea, in awakening associated thoughts and feelings, is finely 
described in the introduction to the fifth book De Finibus. 

" We agreed," says Cicero, " that we should take our after- 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 153 

noon's walk in the academy, as at that time of the day it was a 
place where there was no resort of company. Accordingly, at 
the hour appointed, we went to Piso's. We passed the time in 
conversing on different matters during our short walk from the 
double gate, till we came to the academy, that justly celebrated 
spot, which, as we wished, we found a perfect solitude. I 
know not," said Piso, " whether it be a natural feeling, or an 
illusion of the imagination founded on habit, that Ave are more 
powerfully affected by the sight of those places which have 
been much frequented by illustrious men, than when we either 
listen to the recital, or read the detail, of their great actions. 
At this moment, I feel strongly that emotion which I speak of. 
I see before me the perfect form of Plato, who was wont to 
dispute in this very place ; these gardens not only recall him to 
my memory, but present his very person to my senses. I 
fancy to myself, that here stood Speusippus, there Xenocrates, 
and here, on this bench, sat his disciple Polemo. To me, our 
ancient senate-house seems peopled with the like visionary 
forms ; for, often, when I enter it, the shades of Scipio, of Cato y 
and of Laelius, and, in particular, of my venerable grandfather, 
rise to my imagination. In short, such is the effect of local situ- 
ation in recalling associated ideas to the mind, that it is not 
without reason, some philosophers have founded on this prin- 
ciple a species of artificial memory." 

-This influence of perceptible objects, in awakening associated 
thoughts and associated feelings, seems to arise, in a great meas- 
ure, from their permanent operation as exciting or suggesting 
causes. When a train of thought takes its rise from an idea or 
conception, the first idea soon disappears, and a series of others 
succeeds, which are gradually, less and less related to that with 
which the train commenced : but in the case of perception, the 
exciting cause remains steadily before us ; and all the thoughts 
and feelings which have any relation to it, crowd into the mind 
in rapid succession ; strengthening each other's effects, and all 
conspiring in the same general impression. 

Common maxims of conduct founded on the association of 
ideas. — I have already observed, that the connections which 



154 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

exist among our thoughts, have been long familiarly known to 
the vulgar as well as to philosophers. It is, indeed, only of 
late that we have been possessed of an appropriated phrase to 
express them ; but that the general fact is not a recent dis- 
covery, may be inferred from many of the common maxims of 
prudence and of propriety, which have plainly been suggested 
by an attention to this part of our constitution. When we lay 
it down, for example, as a general rule, to avoid in conversation 
all expressions, and all topics of discourse, which have any re- 
lation, however remote, to ideas of an unpleasant nature, we 
plainly proceed on the supposition that there are certain con- 
nections among our thoughts, which have an influence over the 
order of their succession. It is unnecessary to remark, how 
much of the comfort and good-humor of social life depends on 
an attention to this consideration. Such attentions are more 
particularly essential in our intercourse with men of the world ; 
for the commerce of society has a wonderful effect in increasing 
the quickness and the facility with which we associate all ideas 
which have any reference to life and manners ;* and, of conse- 
quence, it must render the sensibility alive to many circum- 
stances which, from the remoteness of their relation to the situ- 
ation and history of the parties, would otherwise have passed 
unnoticed. 

When an idea, however, is thus suggested by association, it 
produces a slighter impression, or, at least, it produces its im- 
pression more gradually, than if it were presented more directly 
and immediately to the mind. And hence, when we are under 
a necessity of communicating any disagreeable information to 
another, delicacy leads us, instead of mentioning the thing itself, 



* The superiority which the man of the world possesses over the recluse 
student, in his knowledge of mankind, is partly the result of this quick- 
ness and facility of association. Those trifling circumstances in conver- 
sation and behavior, which, to the latter, convey only their most obvious 
and avowed meaning, lay open to the former many of the trains of 
thought which are connected with them, and frequently give him a distinct 
view of a character, on that very side where it is supposed to be most con- 
cealed from his observation. 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 155 

to mention something else from which our meaning may be 
understood. In this manner, we prepare our hearers for the 
unwelcome intelligence. 

The distinction between gross and delicate flattery is founded 
upon the same principle. As nothing is more offensive than 
flattery which is direct and pointed, praise is considered as 
happy and elegant in proportion to the slightness of the associa- 
tions by which it is conveyed. 

Objections to the phrase, association of ideas. — To this ten- 
dency which one thought has to introduce another, philoso- 
phers have given the name of the Association of Ideas ; and 
as I would not wish, excepting in case of necessity, to depart 
from common language, or to expose myself to the charge of 
delivering old doctrines in a new form, I shall continue to make 
use of the same expression. I am sensible, indeed, that the 
expression is by no means unexceptionable ; and that, if it be 
used, as it frequently has . been, to comprehend those laws by 
which the succession of all our thoughts and of all our mental 
operations is regulated, the word idea must be understood in a 
sense much more extensive than it is commonly employed in. 
It is very justly remarked by Dr. Reid, that " memory, judg- 
ment, reasoning, passions, affections, and purposes ; in a word, 
every operation of the mind, excepting those of sense, is ex- 
cited occasionally in the train of our thoughts ; so that, if we 
make the train of our thoughts to be only a train of ideas, the 
word idea must be understood to denote all these operations." 
In continuing, therefore, to employ, upon this subject, that lan- 
guage which has been consecrated by the practice of our best 
philosophical writers in England, I would not be understood 
to dispute the advantages which might be derived from the 
introduction of a new phrase, more precise and more applicable 
to the fact.* 



* [Instead of the common phrase, association of ideas, Dr. Thomas 
Brown prefers, for reasons which he has stated with great acuteness, the 
simple term, suggestion. After remarking, as Reid and Stewart had done 
hefore him, that not only ideas, but emotions, purposes, judgments, and all 



156 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

The relations of habit to the association of ideas. — The 
ingenious author whom I last quoted, seems to think that the 
association of ideas has no claim to be considered as an original 
principle, or as an ultimate fact in our nature. " I believe," says 
he, " that the original principles of the mind, of which we can 
give no account, but that such is our constitution, are more in 
number than is commonly thought. But we ought not to multi- 



other operations of mind, succeed each other in trains of thought and feeling 
by virtue of this faculty, he observes, that the term association seems to 
imply that the two ideas or affections, the one of which serves to call up, 
or remind us of, the other, were formerly present to the mind together, and 
were then associated, or so connected with each other, that, ever afterwards, 
one could not occur without bringing up the other also. In other words, 
he thinks the term association implies previous association ; and to this hy- 
pothesis he opposes the well-known fact, " that an object seen for the first 
time does suggest many relative conceptions." " In this case, at least, 
there cannot have been any previous connection of that which suggests 
with that which is suggested." " That the perception of a giant, which 
had never before coexisted with the idea of a dwarf, should yet be suf- 
ficient, without some prior association, to induce that idea, may seem very 
wonderful ; but wonderful as it is, it is really not more mysterious than 
if the two ideas had coexisted, or succeeded each other, innumerable 
times. The great mystery is in the simple fact of the recurrence or spon- 
taneous lise of any idea, without the recurrence of the external cause which 
produced it ; and when that external cause has ceased, perhaps, to have 
any existence." Take Byron's vivid description of the Dying Gladiator, 
as an instance to show how present perceptions, however strong and startling 
in character, may yet fail to call away the mind's attention from the 
thoughts and scenes of other days, now long distant, though the latter are 
not suggested by any object of sense, but only by a train of ideas and 
passions that were brought together by the principle of opposition or 
contrast. 

" And now 
The arena swims around him, — he is gone, 
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won. 
" He heard it, but he heeded not, — his eyes 

Were with his heart, and that was far away. 

He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize ; 

But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, 

There were his young barbarians all at play, 

There was their Dacian mother " — } 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 157 

ply them without necessity. That trains of thinking, which 
by frequent repetition have become familiar, should spontane- 
ously offer themselves to our fancy, seems to require no other 
• original quality but the power of habit." 

With this observation I cannot agree; because I think it 
more philosophical to resolve the power of habit into the associ- 
ation of ideas, than to resolve the association of ideas into habit. 

The word habit, in the sense in which it is commonly em- 
ployed, expresses that facility which the mind acquires, in all 
its exertions, both animal and intellectual, in consequence of 
practice. We apply it to the dexterity of the workman ; to 
the extemporary fluency of the orator ; to the rapidity of the 
arithmetical accountant. That this facility is the effect of prac- 
tice, we know from experience to be a fact ; but it does net 
seem to be an ultimate fact, nor incapable of analysis. 

In the Essay on Attention, I showed that the effects of prac- 
tice are produced partly on the body, and partly on the mind. 
The muscles which we employ in mechanical operations, be- 
come stronger, and become more obedient to the will. This 
is a fact, of which it is probable that philosophy will never be 
able to give any explanation. 

But even in mechanical operations, the effects of practice 
are produced partly on the mind ; and, as far as this is the case, 
they are resolvable into what philosophers call the association 
of ideas, or into that general fact which Dr. Reid himself has 
stated, " that trains of thinking, which, by frequent repetition, 
have become familiar, spontaneously offer themselves to the 
mind." In the case of habits which are purely intellectual, the 
effects of practice resolve themselves completely into this prin- 
ciple : and it appears to me more precise and satisfactory, to 
state the principle itself as a law of our constitution, than to 
slur it over under the concise appellation of habit, which we 
apply in common to mind and body. 

Association of ideas distinguished from imagination. — The 
tendency in the human mind to associate or connect its thoughts 
together, is sometimes called, but very improperly, the imagi- 
nation. Between these two parts of our constitution, there is, 

14 



158 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

indeed, a very intimate relation; and it is probably owing to 
this relation, that they have been so generally confounded undef 
the same name. When the mind is occupied about absent ob- 
jects of sense, (which, I believe, it is habitually in the great 
majority of mankind,) its train of thought is merely a series of 
conceptions ; or, in common language, of imaginations. In the 
case, too, of poetical imagination, it is the association of ideas 
that supplies the materials out of which its combinations are 
formed ; and when such an imaginary combination is become 
familiar to the mind, it is the association of ideas that connects 
its different parts together, and unites them into one whole. 
The association of ideas, therefore, although perfectly distinct 
from the power of imagination, is immediately and essentially 
subservient to all its exertions. 

Fancy distinguished from imagination. — The last obser- 
vation seems to me to point out, also, the circumstance which has 
led the greater part of English writers to use the words imagi- 
nation and fancy as synonymous. It is obvious, that a creative 
imagination, when a person possesses it so habitually that it 
may be regarded as forming one of the characteristics of his 
genius, implies a power of summoning up, at pleasure, a par- 
ticular class of ideas, and of ideas related to each other in a 
particular manner ; which power can be the result only of cer- 
tain habits of association, which the individual has acquired. 

It is to this power of the mind, which is evidently a par- 
ticular turn of thought, and not one of the common principles 
of our nature, that our best writers (so far as I am able to 
judge) refer, in general, when they make use of the word fancy ; 
I say, in general ; for in disquisitions of this sort, in which the 
best writers are seldom precise and steady in the employment of 
words, it is only to their prevailing practice that we can appeal 
as an authority. What the particular relations are, by which 
those ideas are connected that are subservient to poetical 
imagination, I shall not inquire at present. I think they are 
chiefly those of resemblance and analogy. But whatever they 
may be, the power of summoning up at pleasure the ideas so 
elated, as it is the groundwork of poetical genius, is of suffi- 



THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 159 

cient importance in the human constitution to deserve an appro- 
priated name ; and, for this purpose, the word fancy would ap- 
pear to be the most convenient that our language affords. 

Dr. Reid has somewhere observed, that " the part of our con- 
stitution on which the association of ideas depends, was called, 
by the older English writers, the fantasy or fancy ;" a use of 
the word, we may remark, which coincides, in many instances, 
with that which I propose to make of it. It differs from it 
only in this, that these writers applied it to the association of 
ideas in general, whereas I restrict its application to that habit 
of association, which is subservient to poetical imagination. 

According to the explanation which has now been given of 
the word fancy, the office of this power is to collect materials for 
the imagination ; and, therefore, the latter power presupposes 
the former, while the former does not necessarily suppose the 
latter. A man whose habits of association present to him, for 
illustrating or embellishing a subject, a number of resembling, 
or of analogous ideas, we call a man of fancy : but for an effort 
of imagination, various other powers are necessary, particularly 
the powers of taste and of judgment ; Avithout which, we can hope 
to produce nothing that will be a source of pleasure to others. 
It is the power of fancy which supplies the poet with meta- 
phorical language, and with all the analogies which are the 
foundation of his illusions ; but it is the power of imagination 
that creates the complex scenes he describes, and the fictitious 
characters he delineates. To fancy, we apply the epithets of 
rich or luxuriant ; to imagination, those of beautiful or sublime.* 



* [Though the best writers, as Stewart remarks, are seldom steady and 
precise in the use of two terms so nearly related to each other as fancy and 
imagination, we think these two faculties may yet be distinguished from 
each other by a broader line of separation than the one marked out in the 
text. In fact, the assertion that it is the office of fancy only to furnish the 
materials for the imagination to work upon, if it be understood to mean, 
that fancy merely reproduces the sights and sounds, the thoughts and feel- 
ings, that were known before, without altering or refashioning them, or 



160 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

II. Of the principles of association among our ideas. — The 
facts which I stated in the former Section, to illustrate the ten- 
dency of a perception, or of an idea, to suggest ideas related to 
it, are so obvious as to be matter of common remark. But the 
relations which connect all our thoughts together, and the laws 
which regulate their succession, were but little attended to 
before the publication of Mr. Hume's writings. 

combining them anew, is contradicted by the usage both of poets and 
critics. 

" So full of shapes is fancy, 
That it alone is high fantastical ; " — 

and it throws its materials together into combinations so new and fanciful, 
that the likeness of them cannot be found on the earth or under the earth. 
A " fancy picture," or a " fancy sketch," is commonly understood to mean 
an ideal combination of things often found separate in nature, but never 
before found together. The leading characteristic of such fancy work is, 
that it is recognized at the moment to be unreal, or fantastic. 

But imagination, as Stewart has here pointed out, is accompanied by 
belief; it is, for the moment, a delusion, or a plrrenzy. It assumes, or 
takes for granted, the reality of its own creations. Where fancy sees only 
a resemblance, imagination beholds identity. Hence, the appropriate 
figure of speech for the one, is a simile ; for the other, a metaphor or 
trope. Donne's witty comparison of husband and wife to a pair of com- 



" The one doth in the centre sit, 

And when the other far does roam, 
It leans and hearkens after it, 

And grows erect as it comes home " — 

is, in itself, purely fanciful ; for it is an avowed comparison. But one por- 
tion of it, — that which we have italicized, — is of imagination all-com- 
pact ; for one half of the compasses is here not merely fancied to be a 
human being, but, on the supposition that it is a human being, correspond- 
ing affections, purposes, and actions are attributed to it. So, in Shak- 
Bpeare's magnificent description of daybreak, — 

" See, love ! what envious streaks 
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East; 
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund Day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain Jops " — 

the poet's mind is all aglow with imagination, and the most daring proso- 
popoeia becomes the instinctive language of truth itself.] 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 161 

It is well known to those who are in the least conversant 
with the present state of metaphysical science, that this eminent 
writer has attempted to reduce all the principles of association 
among our ideas to three : Resemblance, Contiguity in time and 
place, and Cause and Effect. The attempt was great, and worthy 
of his genius ; but it has been shown by several writers since 
his time,* that his enumeration is not only incomplete, but that 
it is even indistinct, so far as it goes. 

It is not necessary for my present purpose, that I should 
enter into a critical examination of this part of Mr. Hume's 
system ; or that I should attempt to specify those principles of 
association which he has omitted. Indeed, it does not seem to 
me, that the problem admits of a satisfactory solution ; for there 
is no possible relation among the objects of our knowledge, 
which may not serve to connect them together in the mind ; 
and, therefore, although one enumeration may be more compre- 
hensive than another, a perfectly complete enumeration is 
scarcely to be expected. 

Nor is it merely in consequence of the relations among 
things, that our notions of them are associated : they are fre- 
quently coupled together by means of relations among the 
words which denote them ; such as a similarity of sound, or 
other circumstances still more trifling. The alliteration which 
is so common in poetry, and in proverbial sayings, seems to 
arise, partly at least, from associations of ideas founded on the 
accidental circumstance, of the two words which express them 
beginning with the same letter. 

" But thousands die, without or this or that ; 

Die, and endow a college, or a cat." — Pope's Ep. to Lord Bathurst. 
" Ward tried, on puppies and the poor, his drop." — Id. Imitat. of Horace. 
"Puffs, powders, patches; bibles, billet-doux." — Rape of the Lock. 

* It is observed by Dr. Beattie, that something like an attempt to enu- 
merate the laws of association is to be found in Aristotle, who, in speaking 
of recollection, insinuates, with his usual brevity, that " the relations, by 
which we are led from one thought to another, in tracing out, or hunting 
ajler," as he calls it, " any particular thought which does not immediately 
occur, are chiefly three, resemblance, contrariety, and contiguity." 

14* 



162 THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 

This indeed pleases only on slight occasions, when it may be 
supposed that the mind is in some degree playful, and under 
the influence of those principles of association which commonly 
take place when we are careless and disengaged. Every per- 
son must be offended with the second line of the following 
couplet, which forms part of a very sublime description of the 
Divine power : — 

" Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, 
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart." — Essay on Man, Ep. i. 

To these observations, it may be added, that things which 
have no known relation to each other are often associated in 
consequence of their producing similar effects on the mind. 
Some of the finest poetical allusions are founded on this prin- 
ciple ; and accordingly, if the reader is not possessed of sensi- 
bility congenial to that of the poet, he will be apt to overlook 
their meaning, or to censure them as absurd. To such a critic, 
it would not be easy to vindicate the beauty of the following 
stanza, in an ode addressed to a lady by the author of the 
" Seasons : " — 

" thou, whose tender, serious eye, 
Expressive speaks the soul I love; 
The gentle azure of the sky, 
The pensive shadows of the grove." 

The principles of association divided into two classes. — I have 
already said, that the view of the subject which I propose to 
take, does not require a complete enumeration of our principles 
of association. There is, however, an important distinction 
among them, to which I shall have occasion frequently to refer ; 
and which, as far as I know, has not hitherto attracted the 
notice of philosophers. The relations upon which some of them 
are founded, are perfectly obvious to the mind ; those which are 
the foundation of others, are discovered only in consequence of 
particular efforts of attention. Of the former kind, are the re- 
lations of resemblance and analogy, of contrariety, of vicinity in 
time and place, and those which arise from accidental coinci- 
dences in the sound of different words. These, in general, con- 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 163 

nect our thoughts together, when they are suffered to take their 
natural course, and when we are conscious of little or no active 
exertion. Of the latter kind, are the relations of cause and 
effect, of means and end, of premises and conclusion ; and those 
others, which regulate the train of thought in the mind of the 
philosopher when he is engaged in a particular investigation. 

It is owing to this distinction, that transitions, which would be 
highly offensive in philosophical writing, are the most pleasing 
of any in poetry. In the former species of composition, we 
expect to see an author lay down a distinct plan or method, 
and observe it rigorously ; without allowing himself to ramble 
into digressions, suggested by the accidental ideas or expres- 
sions, which may occur to him in his progress. In that state 
of mind in which poetry is read, such digressions are not only 
agreeable, but necessary to the effect ; and an arrangement 
founded on the spontaneous and seemingly casual order of our 
thoughts, pleases more than one suggested by an accurate 
analysis of the subject. 

How absurd would the long digression in praise of in- 
dustry, in Thomson's " Autumn," appear, if it occurred in a 
prose essay! a digression, however, which, in that beautiful 
poem, arises naturally and insensibly from the view of a luxu- 
riant harvest ; and which as naturally leads the poet back to 
the point where his excursion began : — 

" All is the gift of industry ; whate'er 
Exalts, embellishes, and renders life 
Delightful. Pensive Winter, cheered by him, 
Sits at the social fire, and happy hears 
TV excluded tempest idly rave along ; 
His harden'd fingers deck the gaudy Spring ; 
Without him Summer were an arid waste ; 
Nor to th' Autumnal months could thus transmit 
Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, 
That, waving round, recall my wand'ring song." 

In Goldsmith's " Traveller," the transitions are managed with 
consummate skill ; and yet how different from that logical 
method which would be suited to a philosophical discourse on 
the state of society in the different parts of Europe ! Some of 



164 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

the finest are suggested by the associating principle of contrast. 
Thus, after describing the effeminate and debased Roman, the 
poet proceeds to the Swiss : — 

"My soul turn from them — turn we to survey 
Where rougher climes a nobler race display." 

And, after painting some defects in the manners of this gallant 
but unrefined people, his thoughts are led to those of the 
French: — 

" To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 
I turn — and France displays her bright domain/* 

The transition which occurs in the following lines, seems to 
be suggested by the accidental mention of a word : and is cer- 
tainly one of the happiest in our language : — 

" Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old 1 

- Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; 
War in each breast, and freedom on each brow, 
How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! 
— Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, 
And flies, where Britain courts the western spring/ 

Numberless illustrations of the same remark might be col- 
lected from the ancient poets, more particularly from the 
Georgics of Virgil, where the singular felicity of the transitions 
has attracted the notice even of those who have been the least 
disposed to indulge themselves in philosophical refinement con- 
cerning the principles of criticism. A celebrated instance of 
this kind occurs in the end of the first book ; the consideration 
of the weather and of its common prognostics leading the fancy, 
in the first place, to those more extraordinary phenomena which, 
according to the superstitious belief of the vulgar, are the fore- 
runners of political revolutions ; and afterwards to the death of 
Caesar, and the battles of Pharsalia and Philippi. The manner 
in which the poet returns to his original subject, displays that 
exquisite art which is to be derived only from the diligent and 
enlightened study of nature. 

" Scilicet et tempus veniet cum finibus illis 
Agricola, incurvo terrain molitus aratro, 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 165 

Exesa invenient scabra rubigine pila ; 
Aut gravibus rastris galeas pulsabit inanes, 
Grandiaque effossis mirabitur ossa sepulckris." 

Ideas are associated more readily in the minds of some persons 
than of others. — The facility with which ideas are associated 
in the mind, is very different in different individuals ; a circum- 
stance which, as I shalj afterwards show, lays the foundation of 
remarkable varieties among men, both in respect of genius and 
of character. I am inclined, too, to think that, in the other sex, 
(probably in consequence of early education,) ideas are more 
easily associated together than in the minds of men. Hence 
the liveliness of their fancy, and the superiority they possess in 
epistolary writing, and in those kinds of poetry in which the 
principal recommendations are, ease of thought and expression. 
Hence, too, the facility with which they contract or loose habits, 
and accommodate their minds to new situations ; and I may add, 
the disposition they have to that species of superstition which is 
founded on accidental combinations of circumstances. The 
influence which this facility of association has on the power of 
taste, shall be afterwards considered. 

III. Of the power which the mind has over the train of its 
thoughts. — By means of the association of ideas, a constant 
current of thoughts, if I may use the expression, is made to 
pass through the mind while we are awake. Sometimes the 
current is interrupted, and the thoughts diverted into a new 
channel, in consequence of the ideas suggested by other men, or 
of the objects of perception with which we are surrounded. So 
completely, however, is the mind, in this particular, subjected to 
physical laws, that it has been justly observed by Lord Kaimes 
and others, we cannot, by an effort of our will, call up any one 
thought ; and that the train of our ideas depends on causes 
which operate in a manner inexplicable by us. 

This observation, although it has been censured as paradoxi- 
cal, is almost self-evident ; for, to call up a particular thought 
supposes it to be already in the mind. As I shall have frequent 
occasion, however, to refer to the observation afterwards, I shall 
endeavor to obviate the only objection which, I think, can reaa- 



166 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

onably be urged against it ; and which is founded on that ope- 
ration of the mind which is commonly called recollection or 
intentional memory. 

Intentional memory explained. — It is evident, that before we 
attempt to recollect the particular circumstances of any event, 
that event in general must have been an object of our attention. 
We remember the outlines of the story, but cannot at first give 
a complete account of it. If we wish to recall these circum- 
stances, there are only two ways in which we can proceed. We 
must either form different suppositions, and then consider which 
of these tallies best with the other circumstances of the event ; 
or, by revolving in our mind the circumstances we remember, 
we must endeavor to excite the recollection of the other circum- 
stances associated with them. The first of these processes is, 
properly speaking, an inference of reason, and plainly furnishes 
no exception to the doctrine already delivered. We have an 
instance of the other mode of recollection, when we are at a 
loss for the beginning of a sentence, in reciting a composition 
that we do not perfectly remember ; in which case, we naturally 
repeat over, two or three times, the concluding words of the 
preceding sentence, in order to call up the other words which 
used to be connected with them in the memory. In this in- 
stance, it is evident, that the circumstances we desire to re- 
member are not recalled to the mind in immediate consequence 
of an exertion of volition, but are suggested by some other cir- 
cumstances with which they are connected, independently of 
our will, by the laws of our constitution. 

Notwithstanding, however, the immediate dependence of the 
train of our thoughts on the laws of association, it must not be 
imagined that the will possesses no influence over it. This 
influence, indeed, is not exercised directly and immediately, as 
we are apt to suppose on a superficial view of the subject : but 
it is nevertheless, very extensive in its effects ; and the different 
degrees in which it is possessed by different individuals, consti- 
tute some of the most striking inequalities among men, in point 
of intellectual capacity. 

Power of the will over the thoughts. — Of the powers which 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 167 

the mind possesses over the train of its thoughts, the most 
obvious is its power of singling out an}' one of them at pleasure ; 
of detaining it ; and of making it a particular object of atten- 
tion. By doing so, we not only stop the succession that would 
otherwise take place ; but, in consequence of our bringing to 
view the less obvious relations among our ideas, we frequently 
divert the current of our thoughts into a new channel. If, for 
example, when I am indolent and inactive, the name of Sir 
Isaac Newton accidentally occur to me, it will perhaps suggest, 
one after another, the names of some other eminent mathema- 
ticians and astronomers, or some of his illustrious contemporaries 
and friends : and a number of them may pass in review before 
me, without engaging my curiosity in any considerable degree. 
In a different state of mind, the name of Newton will lead my 
thoughts to the principal incidents of his life, and the more 
striking features of his character : or, if my mind be ardent and 
vigorous, will lead my attention to the sublime discoveries he 
made ; and gradually engage me in some philosophical investi- 
gation. To every object, there are others which bear obvious 
and striking relations ; and others, also, whose relation to it 
does not readily occur to us, unless we dwell upon it for some 
time, and place it before us in different points of view. 

But the principal power we possess over the train of our ideas, 
is founded on the influence which our habits of thinking have on 
the laws of association ; an influence which is so great, that we 
may often form a pretty shrewd judgment concerning a man's 
prevailing turn of thought, from the transitions he makes in 
conversation or in writing. It is well known, too, that by means 
of habit, a particular associating principle may be strengthened 
to such a degree, as to give us a command of all the different 
ideas in our mind, which have a certain relation to each other ; 
so that, when any one of the class occurs to us, we have almost 
a certainty that it will suggest the rest. What confidence in his 
own powers must a speaker possess, when he rises without pre- 
meditation, in a popular assembly, to amuse his audience with a 
lively or a humorous speech ! Such a confidence, it is evident, 



168 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

can only arise from a long experience of the strength of par- 
ticular associating principles. 

Habits of association facilitate the exercise of various powers 
of mind. — To how great a degree this part of our constitution 
may be influenced by habit, appears from facts which are familiar 
to every one. A man who has an ambition to become a punster, 
seldom or never fails in the attainment of his object ; that is, he 
seldom or never fails in acquiring a power which other men 
have not, of summoning up, on a particular occasion, a number 
of words different from each other in meaning, and resembling 
each other, more or less, in sound. I am inclined to think that 
even genuine wit is a habit acquired in a similar way ; and that, 
although some individuals may, from natural constitution, be 
more fitted than others to acquire this habit ; it is founded in 
every case on a peculiarly strong association among certain 
classes of our ideas, which gives the person who possesses it, a 
command over those ideas, which is denied to ordinary men. 
But there is no instance in which the effects of habits of asso- 
ciation is more remarkable than in those men who possess a 
facility of rhyming. That a man should be able to express his 
thoughts perspicuously and elegantly, under the restraints which 
rhyme imposes, would appear to be incredible, if we did not 
know it to be fact. Such a power implies a wonderful com- 
mand both of ideas and of expressions ; and yet daily experience 
shows that it may be gained with very little practice. Pope 
tells us with respect to himself, that he could express himself, 
not only more concisely, but more easily, in rhyme than in 
prose.* 

Nor is it only in these trifling accomplishments that we may 
trace the influence of habits of association. In every instance 



* " When habit is once gained, nothing so easy as practice. Cicero 
writes, that Antipater, the Sidonian, could pour forth hexameters extem- 
pore ; and that, whenever he chose to versify, words followed him of course. 
We may add to Antipater, the ancient rhapsodists of the Greeks, and the 
modem improvisatori of the Italians." — Harris's Phil. Inq. 108, 110. 



wit. 169 

of invention, either in the fine arts, in the mechanical arts, or in 
the sciences, there is some new idea, or some new combination 
of ideas, brought to light by the inventor. This, undoubtedly, 
may often happen in a way which he is unable to explain : that 
is, his invention may be suggested to him by some lucky thought, 
the origin of which he is unable to trace. But when a man 
possesses an habitual fertility of invention in any particular art 
or science, and can rely, with confidence, on his inventive powers, 
whenever he is called upon to exert them, he must have acquired, 
by previous habits of study, a command over certain classes of 
his ideas, which enables him, at pleasure, to bring them under 
his review. The illustration of these subjects may throw light 
on some processes of the mind, which are not in general well 
understood : and I shall accordingly, in the following section, 
offer a few hints with respect to those habits of association which 
are the foundation of wit ; of the power of rhyming ; of poetical 
fancy ; and of invention in matters of science. 

IV. Illustrations of this doctrine. 1. Of wit. — According to 
Locke, Wit consists u in the assemblage of ideas ; and putting 
those together with quickness and variety, wherein can be found 
any resemblance or congruity." I would add to this definition, 
(rather by way of comment than of amendment,) that wit 
implies a power of calling up at pleasure the ideas which it com- 
bines ; and I am inclined to believe, that the entertainment 
which it gives to the hearer is founded, in a considerable degree, 
on his surprise at the command which the man of wit has 
acquired over a part of the constitution, which is so little subject 
to the will. 

That the effect of wit depends partly, at least, on the circum- 
stance now mentioned, appears evidently from this, that we are 
more pleased with a bon mot which occurs in conversation, than 
with one in print ; and that we never fail to receive disgust 
from wit, when we suspect it to be premeditated. The pleasure, 
too, we receive from wit, is heightened, when the original idea 
is started by one person, and the related idea by another. Dr. 
Campbell has remarked, that " a witty repartee is infinitely more 
pleasing than a witty attack ; and that an allusion will appear 

15 



170 wit. 

excellent when thrown out extempore in conversation, which 
would be deemed execrable in print." In all these cases, the 
wit considered absolutely is the same. The relations which are 
discovered between the compared ideas are equally new ; and 
yet, as soon as we suspect that the wit was premeditated, the 
pleasure we receive from it is infinitely diminished. Instances 
indeed may be mentioned, in which we are pleased with contem- 
plating an unexpected relation between ideas, without any refer- 
ence to the habits of association in the mind of the person who 
discovered it. A bon mot produced at the game of cross-pur- 
poses, would not fail to create amusement ; but in such cases, 
our pleasure seems chiefly to arise from the surprise we feel at 
so extraordinary a coincidence between a question and an 
answer coming from persons who had no direct communication 
with each other. 

Of the effect added to wit by the promptitude with which its 
combinations are formed, Fuller appears to have had a very 
just idea, from what he has recorded of the social hours of our 
two great English Dramatists. " Jonson's parts were not so 
ready to run of themselves, as able to answer the spur ; so that 
it may be truly said of him, that he had an elaborate wit, wrought 
out by his own industry. Many were the wit combats between 
him and Shakspeare, which two I behold like a Spanish great 
galleon, and an English man-of-war. Jonson, like the former, 
was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his perform- 
ances. Shakspeare, with the English man-of-war, lesser in 
bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides," tack about 
and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit 
and invention." 

I before observed, that the pleasure we receive from wit is 
increased, when the two ideas between which the relation is dis- 
covered, are suggested by different persons. In the case of a 
bon mot occurring in conversation, the reason of this is abun- 
dantly obvious ; because, when the related ideas are suggested 
by different persons, we have a proof that the wit was not pre- 
meditated. But even in a written composition, we are much 
more delighted when the subject was furnished to the author by 



WIT. 171 

another person, than when he chooses the topic on which he is 
to display his wit. How much would the pleasure we receive 
from the Key to the Loch be diminished, if we suspected that the 
author had the key in view when he wrote that poem ; and that 
he introduced some expressions, in order to furnish a subject for 
the wit of the commentator. How totally would it destroy the 
pleasure we receive from a parody on a poem, if we suspected 
that both were productions of the same author? The truth 
seems to be, that when both the related ideas are suggested by 
the same person, we have not a very satisfactory proof of any 
thing uncommon in the intellectual habits of the author. We 
may suspect that both ideas occurred to him at the same time ; 
and we know that, in the dullest and most phlegmatic minds, 
such extraordinary associations will sometimes take place. But 
when the subject of the wit is furnished by one person, and the 
wit suggested by another, we have a proof, not only that the 
author's mind abounds with such singular associations, but that 
he has his wit perfectly at command. 

The effect of wit increased by the limitations and difficulties of 
the subject. — As an additional confirmation of these observations, 
we may remark, that the more an author is limited by his sub- 
ject, the more we are pleased with his wit. And, therefore, the 
effect of wit does not arise solely from the unexpected relations 
which it presents to the mind, but arises, in part, from the sur- 
prise it excites at those intellectual habits which give it birth. 
It is evident, that the more the author is circumscribed in the 
choice of his materials, the greater must be the command which 
he has acquired over those associating principles on which wit 
depends, and of consequence, according to the foregoing doctrine, 
the greater must be the surprise and the pleasure which his wit 
produces. In Addison's celebrated verses to Sir Godfrey Knel- 
ler on his picture of George the First, in which he compares 
the painter to Phidias, and the subjects of his pencil to the 
Grecian Deities, the range of the poet's wit was necessarily 
confined within very narrow bounds ; and what principally 
delights us in that performance is, the surprising ease and felicity 
with which he runs the parallel between the English history and 



172 wit. 

the Greek mythology. Of all the allusions which the following 
passage contains, there is not one, taken singly, of very extraor- 
dinary merit ; and yet the effect of the whole is uncommonly 
great, from the singular power of combination, which so long 
and so difficult an exertion discovers. 

" Wise Phidias thus, his skill to prove, 
Thro' many a god advanced to Jove, 
And taught the polish'd rocks to shine 
With airs and lineaments divine, 
Till Greece amaz'd and half afraid, 
Th' assembled Deities survey'd. 

Great Pan, who wont to chase the fair, 
And lov'd the spreading oak, was there; 
Old Saturn, too, with up-cast eyes, 
Beheld his abdicated skies ; 
And mighty Mars, for war renown'd, 
In adamantine armor frown'd; 
By him the childless Goddess rose, 
Minerva, studious to compose 
Her twisted threads ; the web she strung, 
And o'er a loom of marble hung ; 
Thetis, the troubled ocean's queen, 
Match'd with a mortal next was seen, 
Reclining on a funeral urn, 
Her short-liv'd darling son to mourn ; 
The last was he, whose thunder slew 
The Titan race, a rebel crew, 
That from a hundred hills ally'd, 
In impious league their King defy'd.* 

According to the view which I have given of the nature of 
wit, the pleasure we derive from that assemblage of ideas which 



* [As this parallel between English history and Grecian mythology may 
not be as clear and intelligible to American as to English pupils, and as 
some of the comparisons, in spite of Stewart's commendation of them, 
may even appear dull and far-fetched, a few words of commentary may 
not seem useless. " Great Pan " stands for Charles II., who once escaped 
his pursuers by ensconcing himself in an oak tree, and whose loves were 
more numerous than select. James II., who feebly lost a throne which, 
in the gentle but lying phrase of the day, he was said to have " abdicated/' 
is here likened to Saturn. "Mighty Mars" is William of Orange, "re- 



RHYME. 173 

it presents, is greatly heightened and enlivened by our surprise 
at the command displayed over a part of the constitution, which, 
in our own case, we find to be so little subject to the will. We 
consider wit as a sort of feat or trick of intellectual dexterity, 
analogous, in some respects, to the extraordinary performances 
of jugglers and rope-dancers ; and, in both cases, the pleasure 
we receive from the exhibition, is explicable in part, (I, by no 
means, say entirely,) on the same principles. 

If these remarks be just, it seems to follow as a consequence, 
that those men who are most deficient in the power of prompt 
combination, will be most poignantly affected by it, when exerted 
at the will of another : and therefore, the charge of jealousy 
and envy brought against rival wits, when disposed to look grave 
at each other's jests, may perhaps be obviated in a way less 
injurious to their character. 

The same remarks suggest a limitation, or rather an explana- 
tion, of an assertion of Lord Chesterfield's, that " genuine wit 
never made any man laugh since the creation of the world." 
The observation, I believe to be just, if by genuine wit, we 
mean wit wholly divested of every mixture of humor : and if 
by laughter, we mean that convulsive and noisy agitation which 
is excited by the ludicrous. But there is unquestionably a smile 
appropriated to the flashes of wit ; a smile of surprise and 
wonder ; — not altogether unlike the effect produced on the mind 
and the countenance by a feat of legerdemain, when executed 
with uncommon success. 

2. Of rhyme. — The pleasure we receive from rhyme, seems 
also to arise, partly, from our surprise at the command which 

nowned " for his long wars against Louis XIV ; while his consort and 
the sharer of his throne, the childless Mary, stands for Minerva. Thetiy 
stands for Queen Anne, who was " matched with a mortal" — one whj 
was not a king, though married to a queen — Prince George of Denmark, 
her " short-lived darling son " was the Duke of Gloucester, who died at 
the age of twelve years. " The last " was George I., about as poor s 
representative of " Jove " as could be imagined; the Highlanders — i. e 
the rebel " Titans," from " a hundred hills " — attempted in vain to 
dethrone him in 1715.1 

15* 



174 RHYME. 

the poet must have acquired over the train of his ideas, in order 
to be able to express himself with elegance, and the appearance 
of ease, under the restraint which rhyme imposes. In witty or 
in humorous performances, this surprise serves to enliven that 
which the wit or the humor produces, and renders its effects 
more sensible. How flat do the liveliest and most ludicrous 
thoughts appear in blank verse ? And how wonderfully is the 
wit of Pope heightened, by the easy and happy rhymes in which 
it is expressed ? 

Other sources of pleasure in wit and in rhyme. — It must not, 
however, be imagined, either in the case of wit or of rhyme, 
that the pleasure arises solely from our surprise at the uncom- 
mon habits of association which the author discovers. In the 
former case, there must be presented to the mind, an unexpected 
analogy or relation between different ideas ; and perhaps other 
circumstances must concur to render the wit perfect. If the 
combination has no other merit than that of bringing together 
two ideas which never met before, we may be surprised at its 
oddity, but we do not consider it as a proof of wit. On the 
contrary, the want of any analogy or relation between the com- 
bined ideas, leads us to suspect, that the one did not suggest the 
other in consequence of any habits of association ; but that the 
two were brought together by study, or by mere accident. All 
that T affirm is, that when the analogy or relation is pleasing in 
itself, our pleasure is heightened by our surprise at the author's 
habits of association when compared with our own. In the case 
of rhyme, too, there is undoubtedly a certain degree of pleasure 
arising from the recurrence of the same sound. We frequently 
observe children amuse themselves with repeating over single 
words which rhyme together ; and the lower people, who derive 
little pleasure from poetry excepting in so far as it affects the 
ear, are so pleased with the echo of the rhymes, that when they 
read verses where it is not perfect, they are apt to supply the 
poet's defects by violating the common rules of pronunciation. 
This pleasure, however, is heightened by our admiration at the 
miraculous powers which the poet must have acquired over 
the train of his ideas, and over all the modes of expression 



RHYME. 175 

which the language affords, in order to convey instruction and 
entertainment, without transgressing the established laws of 
regular versification. In some jof the lower kinds of poetry ; 
for example, in acrostics, and in the lines which are adapted to 
bouts-rimes, the merit lies entirely in this command of thought 
and expression ; or, in other words, in a command of ideas 
founded on extraordinary habits of association. Even some 
authors of a superior class occasionally show an inclination to 
display their knack at rhyming, by introducing, at the end of the 
first line of a couplet, some word to which the language hardly 
affords a corresponding sound. Swift, in his more trifling 
pieces, abounds with instances of this ; and in Hudibras, when 
the author uses his double and triple rhymes, many couplets 
have no merit whatever but what arises from difficulty of exe- 
cution. 

Chief pleasure derived from rhymes. — The pleasure we receive 
from rhyme in serious compositions, arises from a combination 
of different circumstances which my present subject does not 
lead me to investigate particularly.* I am persuaded, however, 
that it arises, in part, from our surprise at the poet's habits of 
association, which enable him to convey his thoughts with ease 
and beauty, notwithstanding the narrow limits within which his 
choice of expression is confined. One proof of this is, that if 



* In elegiac poetry, the occurrence of the same sound, and the uniform- 
ity in the structure of the versification which this necessarily occasions, 
are peculiarly suited to the inactivity of the mind, and to the slow and 
equable succession of its ideas, when under the influence of tender or 
melancholy passions ; and accordingly, in such cases, even the Latin poets, 
though the genius of their language be very ill fitted for compositions in 
rhyme, occasionally indulge themselves in something very nearly approach- 
ing to it : — 

" Memnona si mater, mater ploravit Achillem, 
Et tangant magnas tristia fata Deas ; 
Flebilis indignos Elegcia solve capillos, 
Ah nimis ex vero nunc tibi nomen erit." 

Many other instances of the same kind might be produced from the 
elegiac verses of Ovid and Tibullus. 



176 RHYME. 

t here appear any mark of constraint, either in the ideas or in the 
expression, our pleasure is proportionally diminished. The 
thoughts must seem to suggest each other, and the rhymes to be 
only an accidental circumstance. The same remark may be 
made on the measure of the verse. When in its greatest per- 
fection, it does not appear to be the result of labor, but to be 
dictated by nature, or prompted by inspiration. In Pope's best 
verses, the idea is expressed with as little inversion of style, and 
with as much conciseness, precision, and propriety, as the author 
could have attained, had he been writing prose : without any 
apparent exertion on his part, the words seem spontaneously to 
arrange themselves in the most musical numbers. 

" While still a child, nor yet a fool to fame, 
I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came." 

This facility of versification, it is true, may be, and probably 
is, in most cases, only apparent ; and it is reasonable to think, 
that in the most perfect poetical productions, not only the choice 
of words, but the choice of ideas, is influenced by the rhymes. 
In a prose composition, the author holds on in a direct course, 
according to the plan he has previously formed ; but in a poem, 
the rhymes which occur to him are perpetually diverting him 
to the right hand or to the left, by suggesting ideas which do 
not naturally rise out of his subject. This, I presume, is But- 
ler's meaning in the following : — 

" Ehymes the rudder are of verses, 
With which, like ships, they steer their courses." 

But although this may be the case in fact, the poet must employ 
all his art to conceal it: insomuch that if he finds himself under 
a necessity to introduce, on account of the. rhymes, a superfluous 
idea, or an awkward expression, he must place it in the first 
line of the couplet, and not in the second; for the reader, natu- 
rally presuming that the lines were composed in the order in 
which the author arranges them, is more apt to suspect the 
second line to be accommodated to the first, than the first to the 
second. And this slight artifice is, in general, sufficient to 
impose on that degree of attention with which poetry is read. 



POETICAL FANCY. 177 

Who can doubt that, in the following lines, Pope wrote the first 
for the sake of the second ? 

"A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod ; 
An honest man 's the noblest work of God." 

Were the first of these lines, or a line equally unmeaning, placed 
last, the couplet would have appeared execrable to a person of 
the most moderate taste. 

Why alliteration is introduced. — It affords a strong con- 
firmation of the foregoing observations, that the poets of 
some nations have delighted in the practice of alliteration, 
as well as of rhyme ; and have ever considered it as an essen- 
tial circumstance in versification. Dr. Beattie observes, that 
" some ancient English poems are more distinguished by 
alliteration, than by any other poetical contrivance. In the 
works of Langland, even when no regard is had to rhyme, 
and but little to a rude sort of anapestic measure, it seem3 
to have been a rule, that three words, at least, of each line 
should begin with the same letter." A late author informs 
us, that, in the Icelandic poetry, alliteration is considered # as a 
circumstance no less essential than rhyme. He mentions also 
several other restraints, which must add wonderfully to the 
difficulty of versification ; and which appear to us to be per- 
fectly arbitrary and capricious. If that really be the case, the 
whole pleasure of the reader or hearer arises from his surprise 
at the facility of the poet's composition under these complicated 
restraints ; that is, from his surprise at the command which the 
poet has acquired over his thoughts and expressions. In our 
rhyme, I acknowledge that the coincidence of sound is agree- 
able in itself ; and only affirm, that the pleasure which the ear 
receives from it, is heightened by the other consideration. 

3. Of poetical fancy. — There is another habit of association 
which, in some men, is very remarkable ; that which is the foun- 
dation of poetical fancy : a talent which agrees with wit in some 
circumstances, but which differs from it essentially in others. 

The pleasure we receive from wit, agrees in one particular 
with the pleasure which arises from poetical allusions j that in 



178 POETICAL FANCY. 

both cases, we are pleased with contemplating an analogy 
between two different subjects. But they differ in this, that the 
man of wit has no other aim than to combine analogous ideas ;* 
whereas no allusion can, with propriety, have a place in serious 
poetry, unless it either illustrate or adorn the principal subject. 
If it has both these recommendations, the allusion is perfect. 
If it has neither, as is often the case with the allusions of Cow- 
ley and of Young, the fancy of the poet degenerates into wit. 

If these observations be well founded, they suggest a rule 
with respect to poetical allusions, which has not always been 
sufficiently attended to. It frequently happens, that two subjects 
bear an analogy to each other in more respects than one ; and 
where such can be found, they undoubtedly furnish the most 
favorable of all occasions for the display of wit. But, in serious 
poetry, I am inclined to think, that however striking these 
analogies may be, and although each of them might with pro- 
priety, be made the foundation of a separate allusion, it is 
improper, in the course of the same allusion, to include more 
than one of them; as, by doing so, an author discovers an 
affectation of wit, or a desire of tracing analogies, instead of 
illustrating or adorning the subject of his composition.! 

Why poetical fancy pleases. — I formerly defined fancy to be 

* I speak here of pure and unmixed wit ; and not of wit blended, as it 
is most commonly, with some degree of humor, 
t In the following stanza of Shenstone, for example, 

How pale was then his true-love's cheek, 
When Jemmy's sentence reached her ear ! 

For never yet did Alpine snows 
So pale, or yet so chill appear ; " 

the double allusion unquestionably borders on conceit. The same double 
allusion occurs in the translation of Mallet's " William and Margaret," by 
Vincent Bourne, 

" Candidior nive, frigidiorque manus." 
How inferior in pathetic simplicity to the original, 

And clay cold was the lily hand, etc. 



POETICAL FANCY. 179 

a power of associating ideas according to relations of resent- 
blance and analogy. This definition will probably be thought 
too general ; and to approach too near to that given of wit. In 
order to discover the necessary limitations, we shall considei 
what the circumstances are, which please us in poetical allu 
sions. As these allusions are suggested by fancy, and are tht 
most striking instances in which it displays itself, the received 
rules of critics with respect to them may throw some light oc 
the mental power which gives them birth. 

1. An allusion pleases, by illustrating a subject comparatively 
obscure. Hence, I apprehend, it will be found that allusions 
from the intellectual world to the material, are more pleasing, 
than from the material world to the intellectual. Mason, in his 
Ode to Memory, compares the influence of that faculty over 
our ideas, to the authority of a general over his troops ; 

" thou, whose sway 

The throng'd ideal hosts obey ; 

Who bidst their ranks now vanish, now appear* 

Flame in the van, or darken in the rear." 

Would the allusion have been equally pleasing, from a general 
marshalling his soldiers, to memory and the succession of ideas ? 

The effect of a literal and spiritless translation of a work of 
genius, has been compared to that of the figures which we see, 
when we look at the wrong side of a beautiful piece of tapestry. 
The allusion is ingenious and happy ; but the pleasure which 
we receive from it arises, not merely from the analogy which it 
presents to us, but from the illustration which it affords of the 
author's idea. No one, surely, in speaking of a piece of tapes- 
try, would think of comparing the difference between its sides, 
to that between an original composition and a literal translation. 

Cicero, and after him Mr. Locke, in illustrating the difficulty 
of attending to the subjects of our consciousness, have com- 
pared the mind to the eye, which sees every object around it, 
but is invisible to itself. To have compared the eye, in this 
respect, to the mind, would have been absurd. 

Mr. Pope's comparison of the progress of youthful curiosity, 
in the pursuits of science, to that of a traveller among the Alps, 



180 POETICAL FAISCr. 

has been much, and justly, admired. How would the beauty of 
the allusion have been diminished, if the Alps had furnished 
the original subject, and not the illustration ! 

But although this rule holds in general, I acknowledge, that 
instances may be produced, from our most celebrated poetical 
performances, of allusions from material objects, both to the 
intellectual and the moral worlds. These, however, are com- 
paratively few in number, and are not to be found in descriptive 
or in didactic works; but in compositions written under the 
influence of some particular passion, or which are meant to ex- 
press some peculiarity in the mind of the author. Thus, a 
melancholy man who has met with many misfortunes in life, 
will be apt to moralize on every physical event, and every ap- 
pearance of nature ; because his attention dwells more habitu- 
ally on human life and conduct, than on the material objects 
around him. This is the case with the banished Duke, in 
Shakspeare's As you like it ; who, in the language of that poet, 

" Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 

But this is plainly a distempered state of the mind ; and the 
allusions please, not so much by the analogies they present, as 
by the picture they give of the character of the person to 
whom they have occurred. 

2. An allusion pleases, by presenting a new and beautiful 
image to the mind. The analogy or the resemblance between 
this image and the principal subject, is agreeable of itself, and 
is indeed necessary, to furnish an apology for the transition 
which the writer makes ; but the pleasure is wonderfully height- 
ened, when the new image thus presented is a beautiful one. 
The following allusion, in one of Mr. Home's tragedies, appears 
to me to unite almost every excellence : — 

" Hope and fear alternate sway'd his breast ; 



Like light and shade upon a waving field, 
Coursing each other, when the flying clouds 
Now hide, and now reveal, the sun." 

Here the analogy is remarkably perfect ; not only between 



INVENTION. 181 

Light and hope, and between darkness and fear ; but betweeo 
the rapid succession of light and shade, and the momentary 
influences of these opposite emotions ; while at the same time, 
the new image which is presented to us, recalls one of the most 
pleasing and impressive incidents in rural scenery. 

The foregoing observations suggest a reason why the princi- 
pal stores of fancy are commonly supposed to be borrowed 
from the material world. Wit has a more extensive province, 
and delights to display its power of prompt and unexpected 
combinations over all the various classes of our ideas ; but the 
favorite excursions of fancy are from intellectual and moral 
subjects to the appearances with which our senses are conver- 
sant. The truth is, that such allusions please more than any 
others in poetry. According to this limited idea of fancy, it 
presupposes, where it is possessed in an eminent degree, an ex- 
tensive observation of natural objects, and a mind susceptible 
of strong impressions from them. It is thus only that a stock 
of images can be acquired ; and that these images will be ready 
to present themselves, whenever any analogous subject occurs. 
And hence probably it is, that poetical genius is almost always 
united with an exquisite sensibility to the beauties of nature. 

Before leaving the subject of fancy, it may not be improper 
to remark that its two qualities are, liveliness and luxuriance/. 
The word lively refers to the quickness of the association. The 
word rich, or luxuriant, to the variety of associated ideas. 

4. Of invention in the arts and sciences. — To these powers 
of wit and fancy, that of invention in the arts and sciences has 
a striking resemblance. Like them, it implies a command over 
certain classes of ideas, which, in ordinary men, are not equally 
subject to the will ; and like them, too, it is the result of acquired 
habits, and not the original gift of nature. 

Of the process of the mind in scientific invention, I propose 
afterwards to treat fully under the article of reasoning ; and I 
shall therefore confine myself at present to a few detached re- 
marks upon some views of the subject which are suggested by 
the foregoing inquiries. 

Difference between invention and discovery. — Before we 
16 



182 INVENTION. 

proceed, it may be proper to take notice of the distinction be- 
tween invention and discovery. The object of the former, as 
has been frequently remarked, is to produce something which 
had no existence before ; that of the latter, to bring to light 
something which did exist, but which was concealed from com- 
mon observation. Thus we say, Otto Guerricke invented the 
air-pump ; Sanctorius invented the thermometer ; Newton and 
Gregory invented the reflecting telescope ; Galileo discovered 
the solar spots ; and Harvey discovered the circulation of the 
blood. It appears, therefore, that improvements in the arts are 
properly called inventions, and that facts brought to light by 
means of observation are properly called discoveries. 

Agreeable to this analogy is the use which we make of these 
words, when we apply them to subjects purely intellectual. As 
truth is eternal and immutable, and has no dependence on our 
belief or disbelief of it, a person who brings to light a truth 
formerly unknown is said to make a discovery. A person, on 
the other hand, who contrives a new method of discovering 
truth, is called an inventor. Pythagoras, we say, discovered 
the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid's first book; Newton 
discovered the binomial theorem ; but he invented the method 
of prime and ultimate ratios, and he invented the method of 
fluxions. 

In general, every advancement in knowledge is considered as a 
discovery ; every contrivance by which we produce an effect, or 
accomplish an end, is considered as an invention. Discoveries 
in science, therefore, unless they are made by accident, imply 
the exercise of invention ; and accordingly, the word invention is 
commonly used to express originality of genius in the sciences 
as well «as in the arts. It is in this general sense that I employ 
it in the following observations. 

How inventions are made. — It was before remarked, that, in 
every instance of invention, there is some new idea, or some new 
combination of ideas, which is brought to light by the inventor ; 
and that, although this may sometimes happen in a way which 
he is unable to explain, yet when a man possesses an habitual 
fertility of invention in any particular art or science, and can 



INVENTION. 183 

rely with confidence on his inventive powers whenever he is 
called upon to exert them, he must have acquired, by previous 
habits of study, a command over those classes of his ideas which 
are subservient to the particular effort that be wishes to make. 
In what manner this command is acquired, it is not possible, 
perhaps, to explain completely ; but it appears to me to be 
chiefly in the two following ways. In the jirst place, by his 
habits of speculation, he may have arranged his knowledge in 
such a manner as may render it easy for him to combine, at 
pleasure, all the various ideas in his mind which have any re- 
lation to the subject about which he is occupied: or, secondly^ 
he may have learned by experience certain general rides, by 
means of which he can direct the train of his thoughts into 
those channels, in which the ideas he is in quest of may be 
most likely to occur to him. 

I. The former of these observations I shall not stop to illus- 
trate particularly at present, as the same subject will occur 
afterwards under the article of memory. It is sufficient for my 
purpose, in this chapter, to remark, that as habits of speculation 
have a tendency to classify our ideas, by leading us to refer 
particular facts and particular truths to general principles, and 
as it is from an approximation and comparison of related ideas 
that new discoveries in most instances result, the knowledge of 
the philosopher, even supposing that it is not more extensive, is 
arranged in a manner much more favorable to invention than 
in a mind unaccustomed to system. 

How much invention depends on a proper combination of the 
materials of our knowledge, appears from the resources which 
occur to men of the lowest degree of ingenuity, when they are 
pressed by any alarming difficulty and danger, and from the 
unexpected exertions made by very ordinary characters, when 
called to situations which rouse their latent powers. In such 
cases, I take for granted, that necessity operates in producing 
invention, chiefly by concentrating the adention of the mind to 
one set of ideas, by leading us to view these in every light, and 
to combine them variously with each other. As the same idea 
may be connected with an infinite variety of others by different 



184 INVENTION. 

relations, it may, according to circumstances, at one time suggest 
one of these ideas, and at another time, a different one. When 
we dwell long on the same idea, we obtain all the others to 
which it is any way related, and thus are furnished with ma- 
terials on which our powers of judgment and reasoning may be 
employed. The effect of the division of labor in multiplying 
mechanical contrivances is to be explained partly on the same 
principle. It limits the attention to a particular subject, and 
familiarizes to the mind all the possible combinations of ideas 
which have any relation to it. 

How invention differs from wit. — These observations suggest 
a remarkable difference between invention and wit. The former 
depends, in most instances, on a combination of those ideas, 
which are connected by the less obvious principles of associ- 
ation ; and it may be called forth in almost any mind by the 
pressure of external circumstances. The ideas which must be 
combined, in order to produce the latter, are chiefly such as are 
associated by those slighter connections, which take place when 
the mind is careless and disengaged. " If you have real wit," 
says Lord Chesterfield, " it will flow spontaneously, and you 
need not aim at it ; for in that case, the rule of the gospel is 
reversed; and it will prove, seek, and you shall not find." 
Agreeably to this observation, wit is promoted by a certain 
degree of intoxication, which prevents the exercise of that at- 
tention which is necessary for invention in matters of science. 
Hence too it is, that those who have the reputation of wits, are 
commonly men confident in their own powers, who allow the 
train of their ideas to follow, in a great measure, its natural 
course, and hazard, in company, every thing, good or bad, that 
occurs to them. Men of modesty and taste seldom attempt wit 
in a promiscuous society ; or if they are forced to make such an 
exertion, they are seldom successful. Such men, however, in 
the circle of their friends, to whom they can unbosom them- 
selves without reserve, are frequently the most amusing and the 
most interesting of companions ; as the vivacity of their wit is 
tempered by a correct judgment and refined manners; and as 
its effect is heightened by that sensibility and delicacy, with 



INVENTION. 185 

which we so rarely find it accompanied in the common inter- 
course of life. 

When a man of wit makes an exertion to distinguish himself, 
his sallies are commonly too far-fetched to please. He brings 
his mind into a state approaching to that of the inventor, and 
becomes rather ingenious than witty. This is often the case 
with the writers whom Johnson distinguishes by the name of 
the metaphysical poets. 

Those powers of invention, which necessity occasionally calls 
forth in uncultivated minds, some individuals possess habitually. 
The related ideas which, in the case of the former, are brought 
together by the slow efforts of attention and recollection, pre- 
sent themselves to the latter, in consequence of a more system- 
atical arrangement of their knowledge. The instantaneousness 
with which such remote combinations are effected, sometimes 
appear so wonderful, that we are apt to ascribe it to something 
like inspiration ; but it must be remembered, that when any 
subject strongly and habitually occupies the thoughts, it gives 
us an interest in the observation of the most trivial circum- 
stances which we suspect to have any relation to it, however 
distant ; and by thus rendering the common objects and occur- 
rences which the accidents of life present to us, subservient to 
one particular employment of the intellectual powers, establishes 
in the memory a connection between our favorite pursuit, and 
all the materials with which experience and reflection have sup 
plied us for the further prosecution of it. 

II. Inventions facilitated by general rules. — I observed, in 
the second place, that invention may be facilitated by general 
rules, which enable the inventor to direct the train of his 
thoughts into particular channels. These rules (to ascertain 
which ought to be one principal object of the logician) will 
afterwards fall under my consideration, when I come to ex- 
amine those intellectual processes which are subservient to the 
discovery of truth. At present, I shall confine myself to a few 
general remarks ; in stating which, I have no other aim than to 
show, to how great a degree invention depends on cultivation 

16* 



186 INVENTION. 

and habit, even in those sciences in which it is generally sup- 
posed that every thing depends on natural genius. 

When we consider the geometrical discoveries of the ancients, 
in the form in which they are exhibited in the greater part of 
the works which have survived to our times, it is seldom pos- 
sible for us to trace the steps by which they were led to their 
conclusions ; and, indeed, the objects of this science are so 
unlike those of all others, that it is not unnatural for a person, 
when he enters on the study, to be dazzled by its novelty, and 
to form an exaggerated conception of the genius of those men 
who first brought to light such a variety of truths, so profound 
and so remote from the ordinary course of our speculations. 
We find, however, that, even at the time when the ancient 
analysis was unknown to the moderns, such mathematicians as 
had attended to the progress of the mind in the discovery of 
truth, concluded a priori, that the discoveries of the Greek 
geometers did not, at first, occur to them in the order in which 
they are stated in their writings. The prevailing opinion was, 
that they had possessed some secret method of investigation, 
which they carefully concealed from the world ; and that they 
published the result of their labors in such a form, as they 
thought would be most likely to excite the admiration of their 
readers. The revival of the ancient analysis, by some late mathe- 
maticians in this country, has, in part, justified these remarks, by 
showing to how great a degree the inventive powers of the 
Greek geometers were aided by that method of investigation ; 
and by exhibiting some striking specimens of address in the 
practical application of it. 

The solution of problems, indeed, it may be said, is but one 
mode in which mathematical invention may be displayed. The 
discovery of new truths is what we chiefly admire in an original 
genius ; and the method of analysis gives us no satisfaction with 
respect to the process by which they are obtained. 

How new theorems are discovered. — To remove this difficulty 
completely, by explaining all the various ways in which new 
theorems may be brought to light, would lead to inquiries foreign 
to this work. In order, however, to render the process of the 



INVENTION. 187 

mind, on such occasions, a little less mysterious than it is com- 
monly supposed to be ; it may be proper to remark, that the 
most copious source of discoveries is the investigation of prob- 
lems ; which seldom fails (even although we should not suc- 
ceed in the attainment of the object which we have in view) to 
exhibit to us some relations formerly unobserved among the 
quantities which are under consideration. Of so great impor- 
tance is it to concentrate the attention to a particular subject, 
and to check that ivandering and dissipated habit of thought, 
which, in the case of most persons, renders their speculations 
barren of any profit either to themselves or to others. Many 
theorems, too, have been suggested by analogy; many have 
been investigated from truths formerly known by altering, or by 
generalizing, the hypothesis ; and many have been obtained by a 
species of induction. An illustration of these various processes 
of the mind would not only lead to new and curious remarks, 
but would contribute to diminish that blind admiration of original 
genius, which is one of the chief obstacles to the improvement 
of science. 

Success in scientific researches depends on method. — The 
history of natural philosophy, before and after the time of Lord 
Bacon, affords another proof, how much the powers of invention 
and discovery may be assisted by the study of method: and in all 
the sciences, without exception, whoever employs his genius with 
a regular and habitual success, plainly shows, that it is by means 
of general rules that his inquiries are conducted. Of these 
rules, there may be many which the inventor never stated 
to himself in words ; and perhaps he may even be unconscious 
of the assistance which he derives from them ; but their influence 
on his genius appears unquestionably from the uniformity with 
which it proceeds ; and in proportion as they can be ascertained 
by his own speculations, or collected by the logician from an 
examination of his researches, similar powers of invention will 
be placed within the reach of other men, who apply themselves 
to the same study. 

The following remarks, which a truly philosophical artist has 
applied to painting, may be extended, with some trifling altera- 



188 DREAMING. 

tions, to all the different employments of our intellectual 
powers : — 

" What we now call genius begins, not where rules, abstract- 
edly taken, end ; but where known, vulgar, and trite rules have 
no longer any place. It must of necessity be, that a work of 
genius, as well as every other effect, as it must have its cause, 
must likewise have its rules ; it cannot be by chance, that excel- 
lences are produced with any constancy, or any certainty, for 
this is not the nature of chance ; but the rules by which men of 
extraordinary parts, and such, as are called men of genius, work, 
are either such as they discover by their own peculiar observa- 
tion, or of such a nice texture as not easily to admit handling 
or expressing in words. 

" Unsubstantial, however, as these rules may seem, and diffi- 
cult as it may be to convey them in writing, they are still seen 
and felt in the mind of the artist ; and he works from them with 
as much certainty, as if they were embodied, as I may say, upon 
paper. It is true, these refined principles cannot be always 
made palpable, like the more gross rules of art ; yet it does not 
follow, but that the mind may be put in such a train, that it 
shall perceive, by a kind of scientific sense, that propriety which 
words can but very feebly suggest." — (Discourses by Sir 
Joshua Reynolds.) 

V. Application of the principles stated in the foregoing sections 
of this chapter, to explain the phenomena of dreaming. — With 
respect to the phenomena of dreaming, three different questions 
may be proposed. First, What is the state of the mind in 
sleep? or, in other words, what faculties then continue to operate, 
and what faculties are then suspended? Secondly, How far 
do our dreams appear to be influenced by our bodily sensations ; 
and in what respects do they vary, according to the different 
conditions of the body in health, and in sickness ? Thirdly, 
What is the change which sleep produces on those parts of the 
body, with which our mental operations are more immediately 
connected ; and how does this change operate, in diversifying so 
remarkably the phenomena which our minds then exhibit, from 
those of which we are conscious in our waking hours? Of these 



DREAMING. 189 

three questions, the^rs^ belongs to the philosophy of the human 
mind ; and it is to this question that the following inquiry is 
almost entirely confined. The second is more particularly in- 
teresting to the medical inquirer, and does not properly fall 
under the plan of this work. The third seems to me to relate 
to a subject, which is placed beyond the reach of the human 
faculties. 

It may be granted, that, if we could ascertain the state of the 
mind in sleep, so as to be able to resolve the various phenomena 
of dreaming into a smaller number of general principles ; and 
still more, if we could resolve them into one general fact, we 
should be advanced a very important step in our inquiries upon 
this subject ; even although we should find it impossible to show, 
in what manner this change in the state of the mind results from 
the change which sleep produces in the state of the body. Such 
a step would at least gratify, to a certain extent, that disposition 
of our nature which prompts us to ascend from particular facts 
to general laws, and which is the foundation of all our philo- 
sophical researches ; and, in the present instance, I am inclined to 
think, that it carries us as far as our imperfect faculties enable 
us to proceed. ^ 

What circumstances accelerate or retard the approach of sleep. — 
In conducting this inquiry with respect to the state of the mind 
in sleep, it seems reasonable to expect, that some light may be 
obtained from an examination of the circumstances which accele- 
rate or retard its approach ; for when we are disposed to rest, 
it is natural to imagine, that the state of the mind approaches 
to its state in sleep more nearly, than when we feel ourselves 
alive and active, and capable of applying all our various facul- 
ties to their proper purposes. 

In general, it may be remarked, that the approach of sleep is 
accelerated by every circumstance which diminishes or suspends 
the exercise of the mental powers ; and is retarded by every 
thing which has a contrary tendency. When we wish for sleep, 
we naturally endeavor to withhold, as much as possible, all the 
active exertions of the mind, by disengaging our attention from 
every interesting subject of thought When we are disposed to 



190 DREAMING. 

keep awake, ve naturally fix our attention on some subject 
which is calculated to afford employment to our intellectual 
powers, or to rouse and exercise the active principles of our 
nature. 

It is well known, that there is a particular class of sounds 
which compose us to sleep. The hum of bees ; the murmur of 
a fountain ; the reading of an uninteresting discourse, have this 
tendency in a remarkable degree. If we examine this class of 
sounds, we shall find that it consists wholly of such as are fitted 
to withdraw the attention of the mind from its own thoughts, 
and are, at the same time, not sufficiently interesting to engage 
its attention to themselves. 

It is also matter of common observation, that children and 
persons of little reflection, who are chiefly occupied about sensi- 
ble objects, and whose mental activity is, in a great measure, 
suspended, as soon as their perceptive powers are unemployed ; 
find it extremely difficult to continue awake, when they are 
deprived of their usual engagements. The same thing has 
been remarked of savages, whose time, like that of the lower 
animals, is almost completely divided between sleep and their 
bodily exertions.* 

The powers dependent on volition suspended during sleep. — 
From a consideration of these facts, it seems reasonable to con- 
clude that in sleep those operations of the mind are suspended, 
which depend on our volition ; for if it be certain, that before 
we fall asleep, we must withhold, as much as we are able, the 
exercise of all our different powers ; it is scarcely to be 
imagined, that, as soon as sleep commences, these powers should, 
again begin to be exerted. The more probable conclusion is, 
that when we are desirous to procure sleep, we bring both mind 
and body, as nearly as we can, into that state in which they are 
. — . i 

* " The existence of the negro slaves in America, appears to participate 
more of sensation than reflection. To this must be ascribed, their disposi- 
tion to sleep when abstracted from their diversions and unemployed in 
Jieir labor. An animal whose body is a^ rest, and who does not reflect, 
must be disposed to sleep, of course." — Notes on Virginia, by Mr. Jeffer- 
son, p. 225. 



DREAMING. 191 

to continue after sleep commences. The difference, therefore, 
between the state of the mind when we are inviting sleep, and 
when we are actually asleep, is this, — that in the former case, 
although its active exertions be suspended, we can renew them, 
if we please. In the other case, the will loses its influence over 
all our powers, both of mind and body ; in consequence of some 
physical alteration in the system, which we shall never, probably, 
be able to explain. 

In order to illustrate this conclusion a little further, it may be 
proper to remark, that if the suspension of our voluntary opera- 
tions in sleep be admitted as a fact, there are only two supposi- 
tions which can be formed concerning its cause. The one is, 
that the power of volition is suspended ; the other, that the will 
loses its influence over those faculties of the mind, and those 
members of the body, which, during our waking hours, are sub- 
jected to its authority. If it can be shown, then, that the former 
supposition is not agreeable to fact, the truth of the latter seems 
to follow as a necessary consequence. 

1. Volition itself not suspended during sleep. — That the power 
of volition is not suspended during sleep, appears from the efforts 
which we are conscious of making while in that situation. We 
dream, for example, that we are in danger ; and we attempt 
to call out for assistance. The attempt, indeed, is, in general, 
unsuccessful ; and the sounds which we emit are feeble and 
indistinct ; but this only confirms, or rather is a necessary con 
sequence of tlie supposition, that, in sleep, the connection, be- 
tween the will and our voluntary operations is disturbed or 
interrupted. The continuance of the power of volition is de- 
monstrated by the effort, however ineffectual. 

In like manner, in the course of an alarming dream, we are 
sometimes conscious of making an exertion to save ourselves, 
by flight, from an apprehended danger ; but in spite of all our 
efforts, we continue in bed. In such cases, we commonly dream 
that we are attempting to escape, and are prevented by some 
external obstacle ; but the fact seems to be, that the body is, at 
that time, not subject to the will. During the disturbed rest 
which we sometimes have when the body is indisposed, the 



192 DKEAMING. 

mind appears to retain some power over it ; but as, even in 
these cases, the motions which are made consist rather of a 
general agitation of the whole system, than of the regular 
exertion of a particular member of it, with a view to produce a 
certain effect ; it is reasonable to conclude, that in perfectly 
sound sleep, the mind, although it retains the power of volition, 
retains no influence whatever over the bodily organs. 

In that particular condition of the system, which is known by 
the name of incubus, [or nightmare,~\ we are conscious of a 
total want of power over the body ; and, I believe, the common 
opinion is, that it is this want of power which distinguishes the 
incubus from all the other modifications of sleep. But the 
more probable supposition seems to be, that every species of 
sleep is accompanied with a suspension of the faculty of volun- 
tary motion, and that the incubus has nothing peculiar in it but 
this, — that the uneasy sensations which are produced by the ac- 
cidental posture of the body, and which we find it impossible 
to remove by our own efforts, render us distinctly conscious of 
our incapacity to move. One thing is certain, that the instant 
of our awaking, and of our recovering the command of our 
bodily organs, is one and the same. 

2. The same conclusion is confirmed by a different view of 
the subject. It is probable, as was already observed, that when 
we are anxious to procure sleep, the state into which we natu- 
rally bring the mind, approaches to its state after sleep com- 
mences. Now it is manifest, that the means which nature 
directs us to employ on such occasions, is, not to suspend the 
power of volition, but to suspend the exertion of those powers 
whose exercise depends on volition. If it were necessary that 
volition should be suspended before we fall asleep, it would be 
impossible for us, by our own efforts to hasten the moment of 
rest. The very supposition of such efforts is absurd ; for it 
implies a continued will to suspend the acts of the will. 

Sleep affects the mind as it does the body. — According to the 
foregoing doctrine with respect to the state of the mind in sleep, 
the effect which is produced on our mental operations, is 
strikingly analogous to that which is produced on our bodily 



DREAMING. 193 

powers. From the observations which have been already made, 
it is manifest that in sleep, the body is, in a very inconsiderable 
degree, if at all, subject to our command. The vital and in- 
voluntary motions, however, suffer no interruption, but go on as 
when we are awake, in consequence of the operation of some 
cause unknown to us. In like manner, it would appear, that 
those operations of the mind which depend on our volition are 
suspended ; while certain other operations are, at least, occasion- 
ally carried on. This analogy naturally suggests the idea, that 
all our mental operations, which are independent of our will, 
may continue during sleep ; and that the phenomena of dream- 
ing may, perhaps, be produced by these, diversified in their 
apparent effects, in consequence of the suspension of our volun- 
tary powers. 

If the appearances which the mind exhibits during sleep are 
found to be explicable on this general principle, it will possess 
all the evidence which the nature of the subject admits of 

How much power the will has over the thoughts. — It was 
formerly shown, that the train of thought in the mind does not 
depend immediately on our will, but is regulated by certain gen- 
eral laws of association. At the same time, it appeared, that 
among the various subjects which thus spontaneously present 
themselves to our notice, we have the power of singling out 
any one that we choose to consider, and of making it a partic- 
ular object of attention ; and that by doing so, we not only can 
stop the train that would otherwise have succeeded, but fre- 
quently can divert the current of our thoughts into a new 
channel. It also appeared, that we have a power (which may 
be much improved by exercise) of recalling past occurrences 
to the memory, by a voluntary effort of recollection. 

The indirect influence which the mind thus possesses over 
the train of its thoughts is so great, that during the whole time 
we are awake, excepting in those cases in which we fall into 
what is called a revery, and suffer our thoughts to follow their 
natural course, the order of their succession is always regulated 
more or less by the will. The will, indeed, in regulating the 
train of thought, can operate only (as I have already shown) 

17 



194 DREAMING. 

by availing itself of the established laws of association ; but 
still it has the power of rendering this train very difFerent from 
what it would have been, if these laws had taken place without 
its interference. 

How dreams tuould differ from waking thoughts upon this 
theory. — From these principles, combined with the general 
fact which I have endeavored to establish, with respect to the 
state of the mind in sleep, two obvious consequences follow: 
first, that when we are in this situation, the succession of our 
thoughts, in so far as it depends on the laws of association, 
may be carried on by the operation of the same unknown 
causes by which it is produced while we are awake; and, 
secondly, that the order of our* thoughts, in these two states of 
the mind, must be very difFerent ; inasmuch as, in the one, it 
depends solely on the laws of association, and in the other, on 
these laws combined with our own voluntary exertions. 

In order to ascertain how far these conclusions are agreeable 
to truth, it is necessary to compare them with the known 
phenomena of dreaming. For which purpose, I shall endeavor 
to show, first, that the succession of our thoughts in sleep, is 
regulated by the same general laws of association, to which it 
is subjected while we are awake ; and, secondly, that the 
circumstances which discriminate dreaming from our waking 
thoughts, are such as must necessarily arise from the suspension 
of the influence of the will. 

I. That the succession of our thoughts in sleep, is regulated by 
the same general laws of association, which influence the mind 
while we are awake, appears from the following considerations. 

1. Our dreams are frequently suggested to us by bodily sensa- 
tions ; and with these, it is well known, from what we experience 
while awake, that particular ideas are frequently very strongly 
associated. I have been told by a friend, that, having occasion, 
in consequence of an indisposition, to apply a bottle of hot 
water to his feet when he went to bed, he dreamed that he was 
making a journey to the top of Mount JEtna, and that he found 
the heat of the ground almost insupportable. Another person, 
having a blister applied to his head, dreamed that he waa 



DREAMING. 195 

scalped by a party of Indians. I believe every one who is in 
the habit of dreaming, will recollect instances, in his own case, 
of a similar nature. 

2. Our dreams are influenced by the prevailing temper of the 
mind ; and vary, in their complexion, according as our habitual 
disposition, at the time, inclines us to cheerfulness or to melan- 
choly. Not that this observation holds without exception ; but 
it holds so generally, as must convince us, that the state of our 
spirits has some effect on our dreams, as well as on our waking 
thoughts. Indeed, in the latter case, no less than in the former, 
this effect may be counteracted, or modified by various other 
circumstances. 

After having made a narrow escape from any alarming 
danger, we are apt to awake, in the course of our sleep, with 
sudden startings ; imagining that we are drowning, or on the 
brink of a precipice. A severe misfortune, which has affected 
the mind deeply, influences our dreams in a similar way ; and 
suggests to us a variety of adventures, analogous, in some 
measure, to that event from which our distress arises. Such, 
according to Virgil, were the dreams of the forsaken Dido. 

• Agit ipse furentem 



In somnis ferus iEneas ; sempcrque relinqui 
Sola sibi ; semper longam incomitata videtur 
Ire viam, et Tyrios deserta, quaerere terra." 

3. Our dreams are influenced by our prevailing habits of as- 
sociation while awake. 

In a former part of this work, I considered the extent of 
that power which the mind may acquire over the train of its 
thoughts; and I observed, that those intellectual diversities 
among men, which we commonly refer to peculiarities of genius, 
are, at least in a great measure, resolvable into differences in 
their habits of association. One man possesses a rich and 
beautiful fancy, which is at all times obedient to his will. An- 
other possesses a quickness of recollection, which enables him, 
at a moment's w r arning, to bring together all the results of his 
past experience, and of his past reflections, which can be of 



196 DREAMING. 

use for illustrating any proposed subject. A third can, without 
effort, collect his attention to the most abstract questions in 
philosophy ; can perceive, at a glance, the shortest and the 
most effectual process for arriving at the truth ; and can banish 
from his mind every extraneous idea, which fancy or casual 
association may suggest, to distract his thoughts or to mislead 
his judgment. A fourth unites all these powers in a- capacity 
of perceiving truth with an almost intuitive rapidity ; and in an 
eloquence which enables him to command, at pleasure, whatever 
his memory and his fancy can supply, to illustrate and to adorn 
it. The occasional exercise which such men make of their 
powers, may undoubtedly be said, in one sense, to be unpre- 
meditated or unstudied ; but they all indicate previous habits of 
meditation or study, as unquestionably as the dexterity of the 
expert accountant, or the rapid execution of the professional 
musician. 

From what has been said, it is evident, that a train of thought 
which, in one man, would require a painful effort of study, may, 
in another, be almost spontaneous ; nor is it to be doubted that 
the reveries of studious men, even when they allow, as much as 
they can, their thoughts to follow their own course, are more or 
less connected together by those principles of association, which 
their favorite pursuits tend more particularly to strengthen. 

The influence of the same habits may be traced distinctly in 
sleep. There are probably few mathematicians, who have not 
dreamed of an interesting problem, and who have not even 
fancied that they were prosecuting the investigation of it with 
much success. They whose ambition leads them to the study 
of eloquence, are frequently conscious, during sleep, of a re- 
newal of their daily occupations ; and sometimes feel themselves 
possessed of a fluency of speech, which they never experienced 
before. The poet, in his dreams, is transported into Elysium, 
and leaves the vulgar and unsatisfactory enjoyments oi hu- 
manity, to dwell in those regions of enchantment and rapture, 
which have been created by the divine imaginations of Virgil 
and of Tasso. 



DREAMING. 197 

" And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, 
Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace ; 
O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams, 
That play'd, in waving lights, from place to place, 
And shed a roseate smile on Nature's face. 
Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array, 
So fleece with clouds the pure ethereal space ; 
Nor could it e'er such melting forms display, 
As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay. 
No, fair illusions ! artful phantoms, no ! 
My muse will not attempt your fairy land : 
She has no colors, that like yours can glow ; 
To catch your vivid scenes, too gross her hand." — 

Castle of Indolence. 

As a further proof that the succession of our thoughts in 
dreaming, is influenced by our prevailing habits of association, 
it may be remarked, that the scenes and occurrences which most 
frequently present themselves to the mind while we are asleep, 
are the scenes and occurrences of childhood and early youth. The 
facility of association is then much greater than in more advanced 
years ; and although, during the day, the memory of the events 
thus associated may be banished by the objects and pursuits 
which press upon our senses, it retains a more permanent hold 
of the mind than any of our subsequent acquisitions ; and like 
the knowledge which we possess of our mother tongue, is, as it 
were, interwoven and incorporated with all its most essential 
habits. Accordingly, in old men, whose thoughts are, in a 
great measure, disengaged from the world, the transactions of 
their middle age, which once seemed so important, are often 
obliterated ; while the mind dwells, as in a dream, on the spots 
and the companions of their infancy. 

I shall only observe further, on this head, that in our dreams, 
as well as when awake, we occasionally make use of words as 
an instrument of thought. Sueh dreams, however, do not affect 
the mind with such emotions of pleasure and of pain, as those 
in which the imagination is occupied with particular objects of 
sense. The effect of philosophical studies, in habituating the 
mind to the almost constant employment of this instrument, and, 
of consequence, its effect in weakening the imagination, was for • 

17* 



198 DREAMING. 

merly remarked. If I am not mistaken, the influence of these 
circumstances may also be traced in the history of our dreams ; 
which, in youth, commonly involve, in a much greater degree, 
the exercise of imagination ; and affect the mind with much 
more powerful emotions, than when we begin to employ our 
maturer faculties in more general and abstract speculations. 

II. From these different observations, we are authorized to 
conclude, that the same laws of association which regulate the 
train of our thoughts while we are awake, continue to operate 
during sleep. I now proceed to consider, how far the circum- 
stances which discriminate dreaming from our waking thoughts 
correspond with those which might be expected to result from 
the suspension of the influence of the will. 

1. If the influence of the will be suspended during sleep, aL 
our voluntary operations, such as recollection, reasoning, etc., 
must also be suspended. 

That this really is the case, the extravagance and inconsis- 
tency of our dreams are sufficient proofs. We frequently con- 
found together times and places the most remote from each 
other ; and in the course of the same dream, conceive the same 
person as existing in different parts of the world. Sometimes 
we imagine ourselves conversing with a dead friend, without 
remembering the circumstance of his death, although, perhaps, 
it happened but a few days before, and affected us deeply. All 
this proves clearly, that the subjects which then occupy our 
thoughts are such as present themselves to the mind spontan- 
eously ; and that we have no power of employing our reason in 
comparing together the different parts of our dreams ; or even 
of exerting an act of recollection in order to ascertain how far 
they are consistent and possible. 

The process of reasoning in which we sometimes fancy our- 
selves to be engaged during sleep, furnish no exception to the 
foregoing observation; for, although every such process, the 
first time we form it, implies volition ; and, in particular, implies 
a recollection of the premises, till we arrive at the conclusion ; 
yet, when a number of truths have, been often presented to us 
as necessarily connected with each other, this series may after 



DREAMING. 199 

wards pass through the mind, according to the laws of associa- 
tion, without any more activity on our part, than in those trains 
of thought which are the most loose and incoherent. Nor is 
this mere theory. I may venture to appeal to the consciousness 
of every man accustomed to dream, whether his reasonings 
during sleep do not seem to be carried on without any exertion 
of his will ; and with a degree of facility of which he was never 
conscious while awake. Mr. Addison, in one of his Spectators, 
has made this observation ; and his testimony, in the present 
instance, is of the greater weight, that he had no particular 
theory on the subject to support. " There is not," says he, " a 
more painful action of the mind than invention ; yet in dreams 
it works with that ease and activity, that we are not sensible 
when the faculty is employed. For instance, I believe every 
one, some time or other, dreams that he is reading papers, books, 
or letters : in which case the invention prompts so readily that 
the mind is imposed on, and mistakes its own suggestions for 
the composition of another." 

2. If the influence of the will during sleep be suspended, the 
mind will remain as passive, while its thoughts change from one 
subject to another, as it does during our waking hours, while dif- 
ferent perceptible objects are presented to our senses. 

Of this passive state of the mind in our dreams it is unneces- 
sary to multiply proofs ; as it has always been considered as 
one of the most extraordinary circumstances with which they 
are accompanied. If our dreams, as well as our waking thoughts 
were subject to the will, is it not natural to conclude, that in the 
one case, as well as in the other, we would endeavor to banish, 
as much as we could, every idea which had a tendency to dis- 
turb us ; and detain those only which we found to be agreeable ? 
So far, however, is this power over our thoughts from being 
exercised, that we are frequently oppressed, in spite of all our 
efforts to the contrary, with dreams which affect us with the 
most painful emotions. And, indeed, it is matter of vulgar 
remark, that our dreams are, in every case, involuntary on our 

kpart, and that they appear to be obtruded on us by some external 



200 DREAMING. 

Baxter, that it gave rise to his very whimsical theory, in which 
he ascribes dreams to the immediate influence of separate spirits 
on the mind. 

3. If the influence of the will be suspended during sleep, the 
conceptions which we then form of sensible objects will be 
attended with a belief of their real existence, as much as the 
perception of the same objects is while we are awake. 

In treating of the power of conception, I formerly observed, 
that our belief of the separate and independent existence of the 
objects of our perceptions, is the result of experience ; which 
teaches us that these perceptions do not depend on our will. If 
I open my eyes, I cannot prevent myself from seeing the pros- 
pect before me. The case is different with respect to our con- 
ceptions. While they occupy the mind, to the exclusion of 
every thing else, I endeavored to show, that they are always 
accompanied with belief: but as we can banish them from the 
mind, during our waking hours, at pleasure ; and as the moment- 
ary belief which they produce, is continually checked by the 
surrounding objects of our perceptions, we learn to consider 
them as fictions of our own creation ; and, excepting in some 
accidental cases, pay no regard to them in the conduct of life. 
If the doctrine, however, formerly stated with respect to concep- 
tion be just, and if, at the same time, it be allowed, that sleep 
suspends the influence of the will over the train of our thoughts, 
we should naturally be led to expect, that the same belief which 
accompanies conception while we are awake, should accompany 
the perceptions which occur to us in our dreams. It is scarcely 
necessary for me to remark, how strikingly this conclusion coin- 
cides with acknowledged facts. 

May it not be considered as some confirmation of the foregoing 
doctrine, that when opium fails in producing complete sleep, it 
commonly produces one of the effects of sleep, by suspending 
the activity of the mind, and throwing it into a revery ; and that 
while we are in this state, our conceptions frequently affect us 
nearly in the same manner, as if the objects conceived were 
present to our senses? — (See the Baron de Tott's Account of 
the Opium-takers at Constantinople.) 



DREAMING. 201 

Another circumstance with respect to our conceptions during 
sleep, deserves our notice. As the subjects which we then think 
upon occupy the mind exclusively ; and as the attention is not 
diverted by the objects of our external senses, our conceptions 
must be proportionally lively and steady. Every person knows 
how faint the conception is which we form of any thing, with 
our eyes open, in comparison of what we can form with our 
eyes shut ; and that, in proportion as we can suspend the exer- 
cise of all our other senses, the liveliness of our conception 
increases. To this cause is to be ascribed, in part, the effect 
which the dread of spirits in the dark has on some persons, who 
are fully convinced in speculation that their apprehensions are 
groundless ; and to this, also, is owing the effect of any accidental 
perception in giving them a momentary relief from their terrors. 
Hence the remedy which nature points out to us, when we find 
ourselves overpowered by imagination. If every thing around 
us be silent, we endeavor to create a noise by speaking aloud, 
or beating with our feet ; that is, we strive to divert the atten- 
tion from the subjects of our imagination, by presenting an 
object to our powers of perception. The conclusion which I 
draw from these observations is, that as there is no state of the 
body in which our perceptive powers are so totally unemployed 
as in sleep, it is natural to think that the objects .which we con- 
ceive or imagine, must then make an impression on the mind 
beyond comparison greater than any thing of which we can have 
experience while awake. 

From these principles may be derived a simple, and, I think, 
a satisfactory, explanation of what some writers have repre- 
sented as the most mysterious of all the circumstances connected 
with dreaming ; the inaccurate estimates we are apt to form of 
time, while we are thus employed ; — an inaccuracy which some- 
times extends so far, as to give to a single instant the appearance 
of hours, or perhaps of days. A sudden noise, for example, 
suggests a dream connected with that perception; and, the 
moment afterwards, this noise has the effect of awaking us ; 
and yet, during that momentary interval, a long series of cir- 
cumstances has passed before the imagination. The story quoted 



202 DREAMING. 

by Mr. Addison, (Spectator, No. 94,) from the Turkish Tales, 
of the miracle wrought by a Mahometan doctor to convince an 
infidel sultan, is, in such cases, nearly verified. 

The facts I allude to at present are generally explained by 
supposing, that, in our dreams, the rapidity of thought is greater 
than while we are awake ; but there is no necessity for having 
recourse to such a supposition. The rapidity of thought is, at 
all times, such, that in the twinkling of an eye a crowd of ideas 
may pass before us, to which it would require a long discourse 
to give utterance ; and transactions may be conceived, which it 
would require days to realize. But, in sleep, the conceptions 
of the mind are mistaken for realities ; and therefore our esti- 
mates of time will be formed, not according to our experience 
of the rapidity of thought, but according to our experience of 
the time requisite for realizing what we conceive. Something 
perfectly analogous to this may be remarked in the perceptions 
we obtain by the sense of sight. When I look into a show-box, 
where the deception is imperfect, I see only a set of paltry 
daubings of a few inches diameter ; but if the representation 
be executed with so much skill, as to convey to me the idea of 
a distant prospect, every object before me swells in its dimen- 
sions, in proportion to the extent of space which I conceive it 
to occupy ; and what seemed before to be shut up within the 
limits of a small wooden frame, is magnified, in my apprehen- 
sion, to an immense landscape of woods, rivers, and mountains. 

The 'phenomena of partial sleep. — The phenomena which we 
have hitherto explained, take place when sleep seems to be 
complete ; that is, when the mind loses its influence over all 
those powers whose exercise depends on its will. There are, 
however, many cases in which sleep seems to be partial ; that 
is, when the mind loses its influence over some powers, and 
retains it over others. In the case of the somnambulic it retains 
its power over the limbs, but it possesses no influence over its 
own thoughts, and scarcely any over the body ; excepting those 
particular members of it which are employed in walking. In 
madness, the power of the will over the body remains undimin- 
ished, while its influence in regulating the train of thought is 



DREAMING. 203 

in a great measure suspended ; either in consequence of a par- 
ticular idea, which engrosses the attention, to the exclusion of 
every thing else, and which we find it impossible to banish by 
our efforts ; or in consequence of our thoughts succeeding each 
other with such rapidity, that we are unable to stop the train. 
In both of these kinds of madness, it is worthy of remark, that 
the conceptions or imaginations of the mind becoming inde- 
pendent of our will, they are apt to be mistaken for actual per- 
ceptions, and to affect us in the same manner.* 



* [About ten years ago, the editor of this volume attempted to extend 
to the case of insanity the hypothesis which Stewart has here so pleasingly 
expounded in relation to dreaming. The following is the substance of the 
remarks, which, in the execution of this purpose, were then published in a 
periodical work. 

It seems to us, that the most characteristic trait of insanity is a loss of 
the indirect controlling power which the will usually exercises over the pro- 
pensities and the processes of the understanding. We call this power in- 
direct, because the will cannot immediately govern the belief, or the suc- 
cession of ideas, so as to give distinctness to an imperfect recollection, or 
to put aside an unpleasant thought. But it can indirectly labor to these 
ends, and human reason differs from brute instinct in no respect so much 
as in this sovereignty, partial though it be, which the will and the conscience 
exercise over the swift currents of the thoughts, and the impulse of the 
desires. This is chiefly done through the faculty of attention, which is 
directly dependent on the will. We can stay the succession of ideas at 
any instant, in order to dwell upon a selected thought, till we have con- 
sidered it in all its parts and relations. Comparison itself has been rightly 
defined as an act of alternate attention to two objects ; and it is therefore 
impaired or lost only when we cease to have command of the attention, 
because the will in this respect has become powerless. We distinguish 
fancies from realities only by an effort of attention to our sensations, 
which manifest the difference between the imaginary and the true. If cir- 
cumstances prevent us from making this effort, we live in an unreal world, 
heedless and unconscious of external things. The same relaxation of the 
power of the will, by which mental phenomena arc converted into real 
existences, removes all control and guidance from the thoughts, which 
then become confused and incoherent, a mere stream of inconsistent fan- 
cies. It is so in dreams; every sleeper is a madman, and would appear 
as such, if the will did not lose its power over the body also, so that action 
no longer manifests the delusions of the intellect. In the case of som- 
nambulism, the muscles remain subject to the volitions of the sleeper, 



204 DREAMING. 

By means of this supposition of a partial sleep, any appar- 
ent exceptions which the history of dreams may afford to the 



while the mind is under no control. The somnambulist is, therefore, really- 
insane, and, as such, the law does not hold him responsible for his deeds. 
To remove the check which the will has over the thoughts is like taking 
away the balance-wheel from a watch, which then runs down with a hur- 
ried and irregular motion, no longer taking note of time. Every thinker 
perceives this effect, if he abandons himself to a fit of reverie, when the 
most heterogeneous ideas chase each other in quick succession through the 
mind, without coherency or method, and leaving hardly a trace on the 
memory. Startle him from this state of dreamy abstraction, and he looks 
round bewildered, and requires a moment of effort, before he becomes 
conscious of his situation, and of the presence of surrounding things. Ex- 
cept the depression of spirits, he feels, for an instant, as Lear did, when 
wakening to a gleam of sanity, as the clouds which had obscured his in- 
tellect were for a moment parted. How admirably are the bewilderment 
of mind, and the effort to recall and fix the attention upon the bystanders, 
here depicted ! It is the struggle of the will to regain its supremacy. 

" Pray, do not mock me : 
I am a very foolish, fond old man, 
Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly, 
I fear I am not in my perfect mind. 
Methinks I should know you, and know this man ; 
Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant 
What place this is ; and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not 
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me ; 
For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia." 

In most cases of recovery, the patient retains no memory of what has oc- 
curred, or what he has done during his madness ; or, if any recollection re- 
mains, it is dim and perturbed, like that of a dream. Memory being depen- 
dent on attention, and that again on the will, this is precisely what we 
should expect when the power of volition is suspended. In cases of partial 
mania, the will loses its control over a particular thought, or set of ideas, 
which then occupy and harass the mind, being invested with a factitious 
importance, and leading to the most insane acts. A sane person, if an 
unpleasant thought or recollection comes upon him, can resolutely put it 
aside, and fix his attention upon other objects. But if he be nervous and 
imaginative, irresolute of will, and defective in the power of attention, the 
unwelcome visitant — especially if it be of a gloomy or exciting character, 



DREAMING. 205 

general principles already stated, admit of an easy expla- 
nation. 

like the recollection of a calamity, a disappointment, or an insult — 
usurps almost exclusive possession of the mind, and he sinks into habitual 
despondency. Every moment then increases his danger ; and unless some 
counteracting cause, like the necessity for exertion, be applied, the train of 
thought at last entirely shakes off the sovereignty of the will, and the man 
becomes a monomaniac. 

The particular character of the delusion will be determined by the 
patient's former prevailing turn of mind, and by the chief emotions to 
which he was subject. A man's character is not altered by an attack of 
insanity ; it is only developed and exposed, the check which was usually 
imposed on its free manifestations being now taken away. A person of 
sound mind soon learns to control his desires and propensities, from a re- 
gard to the opinions or the rights of others. His irascibility is repressed, 
his estimation of himself is carefully concealed, his lower appetites are 
governed, and he maintains that reserved and staid demeanor, through 
which only a penetrating eye, and observation sharpened by long experi- 
ence, can detect the innate peculiarities of his disposition. This lesson of 
self-control is learned at so early a period, and is practised upon so habitu- 
ally, that one is hardly conscious of effort in submitting to it, unless the 
primitive desires are of extraordinary force. Let the power of the will be 
destroyed by an attack of mental disease, and this veil is removed ; the 
passions run riot, the leading emotion betrays itself in the grossest manner, 
and the sufferer appears like another being, even to his most intimate 
friends. 

The love of power, and an inordinate estimate of self, arc among the 
most common infirmities of human nature ; and nowhere are they so 
strikingly exhibited, though in a ludicrous light, as among the inmates of 
a lunatic asylum. Here comes a king of shreds and patches, with a paper 
crown on his head, and bits of tinsel showily disposed about his person, 
who announces himself as the Prince of Wales and emperor of the world, 
and greets his visitor with the utmost condescension, as he would a subject 
who had come to do him homage. But he suddenly breaks off in the 
midst of a pompous speech, to inform you, that he has just had a contest 
with the devil in that apartment, and had broken two of his ribs, — this 
devil being an unfortunate keeper, to whose face he had taken a dislike, 
and w r hosc bones he had actually broken. The walls of his room are 
scribbled all over, chiefly with the lofty titles of his greatness ; as, " Su- 
preme from the Almighty," " Mighty Prince," " Mighty General-in-Chief," 
" Great Mighty Grand Admiral," and the like.* Another of the company 

* Conolly on Insanity, p. 289. 

18 



206 DREAMING. 

Upon reviewing the foregoing observations, it does not occur 
to me that I have in any instance transgressed those rules of 

is a poor, mad author, who, in one hour, has written an epic, embracing the 
universal history of Greece and Home ; has restored the Iliad to its state 
as it came from the genius of Kan Id, who lived many millions of ages be- 
fore the deluge of Ogyges ; and accounts for his wonderful endowments, 
by saying that he is a son of Jupiter and Juno. Scott has given us an 
admirable portrait of a deranged female, whose brainsick fancies are only 
the foibles of the weaker part of her sex, grossly exaggerated, and dis- 
played without the least reserve. Madge Wildfire is insane from an ex* 
cessive love of admiration, and an insatiable desire to dazzle and captivate; 
and in all her ravings, her simpei'ing manner, her fantastic costume, and bits 
of finery, we see only the ruling passion divested of any covering or control. 

The strange jumble of fancies, which a distracted person exhibits, seems 
to be only the perfectly loose and casual succession of ideas in a mind 
which has emancipated itself from the governing power of the will. It is 
precisely the incohcrency of a dream, when the thoughts ramble on with- 
out any restraint from volition, or any voluntary pause for the exercise of 
judgment. The utterly passive intellect merely reflects like a mirror the 
images that float before it, without receiving any impression from them, or 
preserving any trace of their passage. Outward objects have no longer 
their usual power to check the current of loose thoughts, and recall the 
mind to a consciousness of its situation ; the sleeper does not see them, 
and the insane person, from the defect in his will, can pay no attention to 
them. The dream of the madman lasts longer ; but in every other respect, 
it is like the night-visions of the perfectly healthy intellect. He has the 
command of his limbs, also ; but he walks in his sleep, and has as little 
perception of external things as the common somnambulist. 

The application of this theory to the cases of moral idiocy and impulsive 
insanity may be easily made. Our position is, that mental disease is noth 
ing more than the suspension of the ordinary power of the will over th« 
other powers of the mind. The thoughts and actions then become entirely 
irrational, not because reason and judgment, properly speaking," cease to 
exist, but because they are both acts consequent upon attention, and, of 
course, cannot manifest themselves when the attention is no longer under 
control. These noble faculties, then, neither decay nor are subject to dis- 
ease ; they are simply suspended from the exercise of their functions, by 
the impairment of another power which is a prerequisite to their use ; and 
when the madman's sleep is ended, they revive and perform their accus- 
tomed office. In the same way, the loss of power in the will suspends the 
exercise of the moral faculty. In moral mania, the conscience " is not 
dead, but sleepeth." The desires and propensities then exist with no 
more than their usual force ; but they are entirely free from restraint by 



DREAMING. 207 

philosophizing which, since the time of JNewton, are commonly- 
appealed to, as the tests of sound investigation. For, in the 
first place, I have not supposed any causes which are not 
known to exist ; and, secondly, I have shown, that the phenom- 
ena under our consideration are necessary consequences of the 
causes to which I have referred them. I have not supposed 
that the mind acquires in sleep any new faculty of which we 
are not conscious while awake ; but only (what we know to be 
a fact) that it retains some of its powers, while the exercise of 
others is suspended ; and I have deduced synthetically the known 
phenomena of dreaming, from the operation of a particular 
class of our faculties, uncorrected by the operation of another. 
I flatter myself, therefore, that this inquiry will not only throw 
some light on the state of the mind in sleep ; but that it will 
have a tendency to illustrate the mutual adaptation and sub- 
serviency which exist among the different parts of our consti- 
tution, when we are in complete possession of all the faculties 
and principles which belong to our nature.* 



the will. All the active principles of our nature then reign unchecked, 
and one is quite as likely to be governed by the more noble, as by the more 
debasing, among their numbei\ In an instance described by Pinel, brutal 
and violent as were most of the actions of the young man, we learn that 
he readily gave way, at times, to motions of beneficence and compassion. 
He was literally the creature of his impulses, and blindly followed them, 
whether they pointed to good or evil. His condition, then, was very like 
that of other maniacs, who are commonly said to be subject to insane im- 
pulses ; only, in his case, the will seemed to be absolutely bereft of its 
rightful authority over the passions, while in theirs, it is powerless only at 
intervals, or under particular excitement. Strictly speaking, the impulse 
is not a mark of insanity, nor unusual in its character. The thought of 
killing may frequently enter the mind of a passionate, but perfectly sane, 
person ; but it is instantly put aside, as an idle or wicked fancy, by the 
conscience. The will masters such vague but horrible thoughts, almost 
without the consciousness of effort, But as the gradual approach of dis- 
ease weakens its command over the succession of ideas, the devilish 
thought intrudes more frequently, and will not " down at his bidding." 
An air-drawn dagger becomes visible to the " heat-oppressed brain," and 
the patient clutches the real weapon at last, in what is, for the moment, 
an uncontrollable frenzy.] 

• Soon after the publication of the first edition of this work, a difficulty 



208 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 



PART II. 

OF THE INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON THE INTELLECTUAL 
AND ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. 

I. Of the influence of casual associations on our speculative 
conclusions. — The association of ideas has a tendency to warp 
our speculative opinions chiefly in the three following ways : — 



was started to me with respect to my conclusions concerning the state of 
the mind in sleep, by my excellent friend M. Prevost, of Geneva ; a gentle- 
man who has long held a high rank in the republic of letters, and to whose 
valuable correspondence I have often been indebted for much pleasure and 
instruction. The same difficulty was proposed to me, nearly about the 
same time, by another friend, [Dr. Thomas Brown,] then at a very early 
period of life, who has since honorably distinguished himself by his observa 
tions on Dr. Darwin's Zoonomia ; the first fruits of a philosophical genius, 
which, I trust, is destined for yet more important undertakings." 

As M. Pre'vost has, in the present instance, kindly aided me in the task 
of removing his own objection, I shall take the liberty to borrow his words. 

[" Without the action of the will, there can be no effort of attention ; 
without some effort of attention, there can be no memory. Now, in sleep, 
the action of the will is suspended. How, then, can there be any recollec- 
tion of dreams ? 

" I see there are two or three solutions of this difficulty ; for the present, 
they are reduced to this observation, either that in perfect sleep there is no 
recollection, and when we do recollect, that our sleep was not perfect ; or 
that the action of the will which is sufficient for memory, is not suspended 
during sleep, — that this degree of activity remains to the mind, being, as it 
were, an elementary and almost imperceptible volition."] 

I am abundantly sensible of the force of this objection ; and am far from 
being satisfied, that it is in my power to reconcile completely the apparent 
inconsistency. The general conclusions, at the same time, to which I have 
been led, seem to result so necessarily from the facts I have stated, that even 
although the difficulty in question should remain for the present unsolved, 
it would not, in my opinion, materially affect the evidence on which they 
rest. In all our inquiries, it is of consequence to remember, that when we 
have once arrived at a general principle by a careful induction, we are not 
entitled to reject it, because we may find ourselves unable to explain from 
it, synthetically, all the phenomena in which it is concerned. The New- 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 209 

Fiist,hy blending together in our apprehensions things which 
are really distinct in their nature ; so as to introduce perplexity 
and error into every process of reasoning in which they are 
involved. 

Secondly, by misleading us in those anticipations of the fu- 
ture from the past, which our constitution disposes us to form, 
and which are the great foundation of our conduct in life. 

Thirdly, by connecting in the mind erroneous opinions with 
truths which irresistibly command our assent, and which we feel 
to be of importance to human happiness. 

A short illustration of these remarks will throw light on the 
origin of various prejudices ; and may, perhaps, suggest some 
practical hints with respect to the conduct of the understanding. 

1. Association often blends together things which are really 
distinct. — I formerly had occasion to mention several instances 
of very intimate associations formed between two ideas which 
have no necessary connection with each other. One of the most 
remarkable is, that which exists in every person's mind between 
the notions of color and of extension. The former of these 
words expresses (at least in the sense in which we commonly 
employ it) a sensation in the mind ; the latter denotes a quality 
of an external object ; so that there is, in fact, no more connection 
between the two notions than between those of pain and of 
solidity ; * and yet, in consequence of our always perceiving 

tonian theory of the tides is not the less certain, that some apparent excep- 
tions occur to it, of which it is not easy (in consequence of our imperfect 
knowledge of the local circumstances by which, in particular cases, the 
effect is modified) to give a satisfactory explanation. 

Of the solutions suggested by M. Pre'vost, the first coincides most nearly 
with my own opinion ; and it approaches to what I have hinted (in page 
202 of this work) concerning the seeming exceptions to my doctrine, which 
may occur in those cases where sleep is partial. A sfrong confirmation of 
it, undoubtedly, may be derived from the experience of those persons, 
(several of whom I have happened to meet with,) who never recollect to 
have dreamed, excepting when the soundness of their sleep was disturbed 
by some derangement in their general health, or by some accident which 
excited a bodily sensation. 

* Dr. Reid has, with great truth, observed, that Des Cartes' reasonings 
agaiust the existence of the secondary qualities of matter, owe all their 
18* 



210 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

extension, at the same time at which the sensation of color is 
excited in the mind, we find it impossible to think of that sen- 
sation, without conceiving extension along with it. 

Another intimate association is formed in every mind between 
the ideas of space and of time. When we think of an interval 
of duration, we always conceive it as something analogous to a 

plausibility to the ambiguity of words. When he affirms, for example, 
that the smell of a rose is not in the flower, but in the mind, his proposi- 
tion amounts only to this, that the rose is not conscious of the sensation 
of smell ; but it does not follow from Des Cartes' reasonings, that there is 
no quality in the rose which excites the sensation of smell in the mind ; — 
which is all that any person means when he speaks of the smell of that 
flower. For the word smell, like the names of all secondary qualities, 
signifies two things, a sensation in the mind, and the unknown quality 
which fits it to excite that sensation. The same remark applies to that 
process of reasoning by which Des Cartes attempts to prove that there is 
no heat in the fire. 

All this, I think, will be readily allowed with respect to smells and 
tastes, and also with respect to heat and cold ; concerning which, I agree 
with Dr. Reid, in thinking that Des Cartes' doctrine, when cleared of that 
air of mystery which it derives from the ambiguity of words, differs very 
little, if at all, from the commonly received notions. But the case seems 
to be different with respect to colors, of the nature of which the vulgar are 
apt to form a very confused conception, which the philosophy of Des 
Cartes has a tendency to correct. Dr. Reid has justly distinguished the 
quality of color from what he calls the appearance of color, which last can 
only exist in a mind. Now I am disposed to believe, that when the vulgar 
speak of color, they commonly mean the appearance of color ; or rather they 
associate the appearance and its cause so intimately together, that they 
find it impossible to think of them separately. The sensation of color 
never forms one simple object of attention to the mind, like those of smell 
and taste ; but every time we are conscious of it, we perceive at the same 
time extension and figure. Hence it is, that we find it impossible to con- 
ceive color without extension, though certainly there is no more necessary 
connection between them, than between extension and smell. 

From this habit of associating the two together, we are led also to assign 
them the same place, and to conceive the different colors, or, to use Dr. 
Reid's language, the appearance of the different colors, as something 
spread over the surfaces of bodies. I Own, that when we reflect on the 
subject with attention, we find this conception to be indistinct, and see 
clearly that the appearance of color can exist only in a mind ; but still it 
is some confused notion of this sort, which every man is disposed to form 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 211 

line, and we apply the same language to both subjects. We 
speak of a long and short time, as well as of a long and short 
distance ; and we are not conscious of any metaphor in doing 
so. Nay, so very perfect does the analogy appear to us, that 
Boscovich mentions it as a curious circumstance, that extension 
should have three dimensions, and duration only one. 

This apprehended analogy seems to be founded wholly on an 
association between the ideas of space and of time, arising from 
our always measuring the one of these quantities by the other. 
We measure time by motion, and motion by extension. In an 
hour, the hand of the clock moves over a certain space ; in two 
hours, over double the space ; and so on. Hence the ideas of 
space and of time become very intimately united, and we apply 
to the latter the words long and short, before and after, in the 
same manner as to the former. 

The apprehended analogy between the relation which the 
different notes in the scale of music bear to each other, and the 
relation of superiority and inferiority, in respect of position, 
among material objects, arises also from an accidental associa- 
tion of ideas. 

What this association is founded upon, I shall not take upon 
me to determine ; but that it is the effect of accident, appears 
clearly from this, that it has not only been confined to particular 



who has not been very familiarly conversant with philosophical inquiries. — 
I find, at least, that such is the notion which most readily presents itself 
to my own mind. 

Nor is this reference of the sensation, or appearance, of color to an 
external object, a fact altogether singular in our constitution. It is ex-. 
tremcly analogous to the reference, which we always make, of the sensations 
of touch to those parts of the body where the exciting causes of the sen- 
sations exist. If I strike my hand against a hard object, I naturally say, 
that I feel pain in my hand. The philosophical truth is, that I perceive 
the cause of the pain to be applied to that part of my body. The sen- 
sation itself I cannot refer, in point of place, to the hand, without conceiv- 
ing the soul to be spread over the body by diffusion. 

A still more striking analogy to the fact under our consideration, occurs 
in those sensations of touch which we refer to a place beyond the limits of 
the body ; as in the case of pain felt in an amputated limb. 



212 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

ages and nations, but is the very reverse of an association 
which was once equally prevalent. It is observed by Dr. 
Gregory, in the preface to his edition of Euclid's works, that 
the more ancient of the Greek writers looked upon grave sounds 
is high, and acute ones as low ; and that the present mode of 
xpression on that subject was an innovation introduced at a 
later period.* 

In the instances which have now been mentioned, our habits 
of combining the notions of two things become so strong, that 
we find it impossible to think of the one, without thinking at the 
same time of the other. Various other examples of the same 
species of combination, although, perhaps, not altogether so 
striking in degree, might easily be collected from the subjects 
about which our metaphysical speculations are employed. The 
sensations, for instance, which are excited in the mind by exter- 
nal objects, and the perceptions of material qualities which follow 
these sensations, are to be distinguished from each other only 
by long habits of patient reflection. A clear conception of this 
distinction may be regarded as the key to all Dr. Reid's reason- 
ings concerning the process of nature in perception ; and till it 
has once been rendered familiar to the reader, a great part of 
his writings must appear unsatisfactory and obscure. In truth, 
our progress in the philosophy of the human mind depends 
much more on that severe and discriminating judgment, which 



* The association to which, in modern times, we are habituated from 
our infancy, between the ideas of acute and high, and between those of 
grave and low, is accounted for by Dr. Smith, in. his Harmonics, from the 
formation of the voice in singing ; [the deep or grave sounds appearing to 
come from the lower part of the throat, and the acute or sharp notes from 
above.] 

Dr. Beattie, in his ingenious essay on poetry and music, says it is prob- 
able that the deepest or gravest sound was called summa by the Romans, 
and the shrillest or acutest ima ; and he conjectures, that " this might have 
been owing to the construction of their instruments ; the string that 
sounded the former being perhaps highest in place, and that which 
sounded the latter lowest." If this conjecture could be verified, it Avould 
afford a proof from the fact, how liable the mind is to be influenced in 
this respect by casual combinations. 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 213 

enables us to separate ideas which nature or habit have imme- 
diately combined, than on acuteness of reasoning or fertility of 
invention. And hence it is, that metaphysical studies are the 
best of all preparations for those philosophical pursuits which 
relate to the conduct of life. In none of these, do we meet with 
casual combinations so intimate and indissoluble as those which 
occur in metaphysics ; and he who has been accustomed to such 
discriminations as this science requires, will not easily be im- 
posed on by that confusion of ideas, which warps the judg- 
ments of the multitude in moral, religious, and political in- 
quiries. 

From the facts which have now been stated, it is easy to con- 
ceive the manner in which the association of ideas has a tendency 
to mislead the judgment in the first of the three cases already 
enumerated. When two subjects of thought are so intimately 
connected together in the mind, that we find it scarcely possible 
to consider them apart, it must require no common efforts of 
attention, to conduct any process of reasoning which relates to 
either. I formerly took notice of the errors to which we are 
exposed in consequence of the ambiguity of words ; and of the 
necessity of frequent checking and correcting our general rea- 
sonings by means of particular examples ; but in the cases to 
which I allude at present, there is (if I may use the expression) 
an ambiguity of things ; so that, even when the mind is occupied 
about particulars, it finds it difficult to separate the proper ob- 
jects of its attention from others with which it has been long 
accustomed to blend them. The cases, indeed, in which such 
obstinate and invincible associations are formed among different 
subjects of thought, are not very numerous, and occur chiefly 
in our metaphysical researches; but in every mind, casual 
combinations of an inferior degree of strength, have an habitual 
effect in disturbing the intellectual powers, and are not to be 
conquered without persevering exertions, of which few men are 
capable. The obvious effects which this tendency to combi- 
nation produces on the judgment, in confounding together those 
ideas which it is the province of the metaphysician to distinguish, 
sufficiently illustrate the mode of its operation in those numer- 



214 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

ous instances, in which its influence, though not so complete 
and striking, is equally real, and far more dangerous. 

2. Association misleads us in judging of the future from the 
past. — The association of ideas is a source of speculative error, 
by misleading us in those anticipations of the future from the 
past, which are the foundation of our conduct in life. 

The great object of philosophy, as I have already remarked 
more than once, is to ascertain the laws * which regulate the suc- 
cession of events, both in the physical and moral worlds ; in 
order that, when called upon to act in any particular combi- 
nation of circumstances, we may be enabled to anticipate the 
probable course of nature from our past experience, and to 
regulate our conduct accordingly. 

As a knowledge of the established connections among events 
is the foundation of sagacity and of skill, both in the practical 
arts, and in the conduct of life, nature has not only given to all 
men a strong disposition to remark, with attention and curiosity, 
those phenomena which have been observed to happen nearly 
at the same time ; but has beautifully adapted to the uniformity 
of her own operations, the laws of association in the human 
mind. By rendering contiguity in time one of the strongest of 
our associating principles, she has conjoined together in our 
thoughts the same events which we have found conjoined in 
our experience, and has thus accommodated (without any effort 
on our part) the order of our ideas to that scene in which we 
are destined to act.f 

The degree of experience which is necessary for the preser- 
vation of our animal existence, is acquired by all men without 



* See note to page 6. 

t [" The law of the association of ideas, which is the regulative principle 
of memory, corresponds so exactly with the uniform succession of cause and 
effect, which is the regulative principle of the universe, that no one can 
doubt that the one was specially designed to be the complement of the 
other. The child associates the idea of burning with that of the fire ; and 
every pleasant or painful feeling reminds him of the occasion when it was 
first excited. On these connections of thought, the whole value of ex- 
perience depends. If memory acted disorderly, the effect, for all practical 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 215 

any particular efforts of study. The laws of nature, which it is 
most material for us to know, are exposed to the immediate 
observation of our senses ; and establish, by means of the prin- 
ciple of association, a corresponding order in oar thoughts, long 
before the dawn of reason and reflection ; or at least, long before 
that period of childhood, to which our recollection afterwards 
extends. 

This tendency of the mind to associate together events which 
have been presented to it nearly at the same time, although, 
on the whole, it is attended with infinite advantages, yet like 
many other principles of our nature, may occasionally be a 
source of inconvenience, unless we avail ourselves of our reason 
and of our experience in keeping it under proper regulation. 
Among the various phenomena which are continually passing 
before us, there is a great proportion, whose vicinity in time does 
not indicate a constancy of conjunction ; and unless we be care- 
ful to make the distinction between these two classes of connec- 
tions, the order of our ideas will be apt to correspond with the 
one as well as with the other ; and our unenlightened experience 
of the past will fill the mind, in numberless instances, with vain 
expectations, or with groundless alarms, concerning the future. 
This disposition to confound together accidental and permanent 
connections, is one great source of popular superstitions. Hence 
the regard which is paid to unlucky days ; to unlucky colors ; and 
to the influence of the planets ; — apprehensions which render 
human life, to many, a continued series of absurd terrors. Lu- 
cretius compares them to those which children feel, from an idea 
of the existence of spirits in the dark. 



purposes, would be the same as if events succeeded each other at random, 
and not in an unchangeable sequence. Before the past can be a safe guide 
as to the future, it is necessary, not only that the same effect should always 
follow the same cause, but also that the sight of the cause should always 
and instantly remind us of what is sure to succeed. In this respect, as in 
many others, the mind is a microcosm ; it mirrors to us those aspects of 
external nature which are most necessary to be presented fcr the safety of 
the individual. The law of causation is also the law of memory."] -« 
Bo-wen's Lowell Lectures, p. 398. 



216 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

"Ac veluti pueri trepidant, atque omnia ca;cis 
In tenebris metuunt, sic nos in luce timemns, 
Interdum nihilo quae sunt metuenda magis." 

Such spectres can be dispelled by the light of philosophy 
only ; which, by accustoming us to trace established connections, 
teaches us to despise those which are casual ; and, by giving a- 
proper direction to that bias of the mind which is the foundation 
of superstition, prevents it from leading us astray. 

Wrong associations may mislead even enlightened minds. — In 
the instances which we have now been considering, events come 
to be combined together in the mind, merely from the accidental 
ciicumstance of their contiguity in time, at the moment when 
we perceived them. Such combinations are confined, in a great 
measure, to uncultivated and unenlightened minds ; or to those 
individuals who, from nature or education, have a more than 
ordinary facility of association. But there are other accidental 
combinations, which are apt to lay hold of the most vigorous 
understandings ; and from which, as they are the natural and 
necessary result of a limited experience, no superiority of in- 
tellect is sufficient to preserve a philosopher, in the infancy of 
physical science. 

As the connections among physical events are discovered to 
us by experience alone, it is evident that, when we see a phe- 
nomenon preceded by a number of different circumstances, it is 
impossible for us to determine, by any reasoning a priori, which 
of these circumstances are to be regarded as the constant, and 
which as the accidental, antecedents of the effect. If, in the 
course of our experience, the same combination of circum- 
stances is always exhibited to us without any alteration, and is 
invariably followed by the same result, we must for ever remain 
ignorant, whether this result be connected with the whole com- 
bination, or with one or more of the circumstances combined ; 
and therefore, if we are anxious, upon any occasion, to produce 
a similar effect, the only rule that we can follow with perfect 
security, is to imitate in every particular circumstance the 
combination which we have seen. It is only where we have an 
opportunity of separating such circumstances from each other ; 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 217 

of combining them variously together ; and of observing the 
effects which result from these different experiments, that we 
can ascertain with precision the general laws of nature, and 
strip physical causes of their accidental and unessential con- 
comitants. 

To illustrate this by an example. Let us suppose that a 
savage, who, in a particular instance, had found himself relieved 
of some bodily indisposition by a draught of cold water, is a 
second time afflicted with a similar disorder, and is desirous to 
repeat the same remedy. With a limited degree of experience 
which we have here supposed him to possess, it would be im- 
possible for the acutest philosopher, in his situation, to deter 
mine, whether the cure was owing to the water which was 
drunk, to the cup in which it was contained, to the fountain 
from which it was taken, to the particular day of the month, or to 
the particular age of the moon. In order, therefore, to insure the 
success of the remedy, he will very naturally, and very wisely, 
copy, as far as he can recollect, every circumstance which ac- 
companied the first application of it. He will make use of the 
same cup, draw the water from the same fountain, hold his body 
in the same posture, and turn his face in the same direction ; and 
thus all the accidental circumstances in which the first experi- 
ment was made, will come to be associated equally in his mind 
with the effect produced. The fountain from which the water 
was drawn, will be considered as possessed of particular virtues; 
and the cup from which it was drunk, will be set apart from 
vulgar uses, for the sake of those who may afterwards have 
occasion to apply the remedy. It is the enlargement of ex- 
perience alone, and not any progress in the art of reasoning, 
which can cure the mind of these associations, and free the 
practice of medicine from those superstitious observances with 
which we always find it incumbered among rude nations. 

Many instances of this species of superstition might be pro- 
duced from the works of philosophers who have flourished in 
more enlightened ages. In particular, many might be pro- 
duced from the writings of those physical inquirers who imme- 
diately succeeded to Lord Bacon ; and who, convinced by his 
19 



218 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

arguments of the folly of all reasonings a priori concerning the 
laws of nature, were frequently apt to run into the opposite 
extreme, by recording every circumstance, even the most ludi- 
crous, and the most obviously unessential, which attended their 
experiments.* 

Moral and political prejudices traced to the association of 
ideas. — The observations which have been hitherto made, re- 
late entirely to associations founded on casual combinations of 
material objects, or of physical events. The effects which these 
associations produce on the understanding, and which are so 
palpable that they cannot fail to strike the most careless ob- 
server, will prepare the reader for the remarks I am now to 
make, on some analogous prejudices which warp our opinions 
on still more important subjects. 

As the established laws of the material world, which have 
been exhibited to our senses from our infancy, gradually ac- 
commodate to themselves the order of our thoughts ; so the 
most arbitrary and capricious institutions and customs, by a 
long and constant and exclusive operation on the mind, acquire 
such an influence in forming the intellectual habits, that every 
deviation from them not only produces surprise, but is apt to 
excite sentiments of contempt and of ridicule. f A. person who 
has never extended his views beyond that society of which he 
himself is a member, is apt to consider many peculiarities in the 
manners and customs of his countrymen as founded on the uni- 
versal principles of the human constitution ; and when he hears 
of other nations, whose practices in similar cases are different, 

* The reader will scarcely believe, that the following cure for a dysen- 
tery is copied verbatim from the works of Mr. Boyle : — 

"Take the thigh-bone of a hanged man, (perhaps another may serve, 
but this was still made use of,) calcine it to whiteness, and having purged 
the patient with an antimonial medicine, give him one drachm of this white 
powder for one dose, in some good cordial, whether conserve or liquor." 

t "Nous nous accoutumons a tout ce que nous voyons ; et je ne scais 
si le consulat du cheval de Caligula nous auroit autant surpris que nou3 
nous l'imaginons." [We become accustomed to every thing which we see ; 
and I do not know that the consulship of Caligula's horse would hav« 
surprised us as much as we imagine.] — Cardinal de Retz. 






THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 219 

he is apt to censure them as unnatural, and to despise them as 
absurd. There are two classes of men who have more par- 
ticularly been charged with this weakness ; those who are placed 
at the bottom, and those who have reached the summit, of the 
scale of refinement ; the former from ignorance, and the latter 
from national vanity. 

For curing this class of prejudices, the obvious expedient 
which nature points out to us, is to extend our acquaintance 
with human affairs, either by means of books, or of personal 
observation. The effects of travelling, in enlarging and in en- 
lightening the mind, are obvious to our daily experience ; and 
similar advantages may be derived, (although, perhaps, not in 
an equal degree,) from a careful study of the manners of past 
ages or of distant nations, as they are described by the his- 
torian. In making, however, these attempts for our intellectual 
improvement, it is of the utmost consequence to us to vary, to 
a considerable degree, the objects of our attention, in order to 
prevent any danger of our acquiring an exclusive preference 
for the caprices of any one people, whose political situation, or 
whose moral character, may attach us to them as faultless 
models for our imitation. The same weakness and versatility 
of mind, the same facility of association, which, in the case of 
a person who has never extended his views beyond his own 
community, is a source of national prejudice and of national 
bigotry, renders the mind, when formed into new situations, 
easily susceptible of other prejudices no less capricious ; and 
frequently prevents the time, which is devoted to travelling, or 
to study, from being subservient to any better purpose, than an 
importation of foreign fashions, or a still more ludicrous imita- 
tion of ancient follies. 

The philosopher whose thoughts dwell habitually, not merely 
upon what is, or what has been, but upon what is best and 
most expedient for mankind ; who, to the study of books, and 
the observation of manners, has added a careful examination of 
the principles of the human constitution, and of those which 
ought to regulate the social order ; is the only person who is 
effectually secured against both the weaknesses which I have 



£20 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

described. By learning to separate what is essential to morality 
and to happiness, from those adventitious trifles which it is the 
province of fashion to direct, he is equally guarded against the 
follies of national prejudices, and a weak deviation, in matters 
of indifference, from established ideas. Upon his mind, thus 
occupied with important subjects of reflection, the fluctuating 
caprices and fashions of the times lose their influence ; while 
accustomed to avoid the slavery of local and arbitrary habits, 
he possesses, in his own genuine simplicity of character, the 
same power of accommodation to external circumstances, which 
men of the world derive from the pliability of their taste and 
the versatility of their manners. As the order too, of his ideas 
is accommodated, not to what is casually presented from without, 
but to his own systematical principles, his associations are sub- 
ject only to those slow and pleasing changes which arise from 
his growing light and improving reason ; and, in such a period 
of the world as at present, when the press not only excludes 
the possibility of a permanent retrogradation in human affairs, 
but operates with an irresistible though gradual progress, in 
undermining prejudices and in extending the triumphs of phi- 
losophy, he may reasonably indulge the hope, that society will 
every day approach nearer and nearer to what he wishes it to 
be. A man of such a character, instead of looking back on the 
past with regret, finds himself (if I may use the expression) 
more at home in the world, and more satisfied with its order, 
the longer he lives in it. The melancholy contrast which old 
men are sometimes disposed to state, between its condition 
when they are about to leave it, and that in which they found it 
at the commencement of their career, arises, in most cases, 
from the unlimited influence which, in their early years, they 
had allowed to the fashions of the times, in the formation of 
their characters: How different from those sentiments and 
prospects which dignified the retreat of Turgot, and brightened 
the declining years of Franklin ! 

How unconscious changes of opinion are produced. — The 
querulous temper, however, which is incident to old men, 
although it renders their manners disagreeable in the inter- 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 221 

course of social life, is by no means the most contemptible form 
in which the prejudices I have now been describing may dis- 
play their influence. Such a temper indicates at least a certain 
degree of observation, in marking the vicissitudes of human 
affairs, and a certain degree of sensibility in early life, which 
has connected pleasing ideas with the scenes of infancy and 
youth. A very great proportion of mankind are, in a great 
measure, incapable either of the one or of the other ; and suffering 
themselves to be carried quietly along with the stream of fashion, 
and finding their opinions and their feelings always in the same 
relative situation to the fleeting objects around them, are per- 
fectly unconscious of any progress in their own ideas, or of any 
change in the manners of their age. In vain the philosopher 
reminds them of the opinions they yesterday held ; and fore- 
warns them, from the spirit of the times, of those which they 
are to hold to-morrow. The opinions of the present moment 
seem to them to be inseparable from their constitution; and 
when the prospects are realized, which they lately treated as 
chimerical, their minds are so gradually prepared for the event, 
that they behold it Avithout any emotions of wonder or curiosity ; 
and it is to the philosopher alone, by whom it was predicted, 
that it appears to furnish a subject worthy of future reflection.* 
The prejudices to which the last observations relate, have 
their origin in that disposition of our nature, which accommo- 
dates the order of our ideas, and our various intellectual habits, 

* Some reflections similar to the above are subjoined by Gibbon to his 
account of the fable of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus. " The story of 
the seven sleepers has been adopted and adorned by the nations from 
Bengal to Africa, who profess the Mahometan religion ; and some vestiges 
of a similar tradition have been discovered in the remote extremities of 
Scandinavia. This easy and universal belief, so expressive of the sense 
of mankind, may be ascribed to the genuine merit of the fable itself. 
We imperceptibly advance from youth to age, without observing the 
gradual, but incessant change of human affairs ; and even in our larger 
experience of history, the imagination is accustomed, by a perpetual scries 
of causes and affects, to unite the most distant revolutions. But iT the 
interval between two memorable eras could be instantly annihilated; if it 
were possible, after a momentary slumber of two hundred years, to dis« 

19* 



222 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

to whatever appearances have been long and familiarly pre* 
sented to the mind. But there are other prejudices, which, by 
being intimately associated with the essential principles of our 
constitution, or with the original and universal laws of our belief, 
are incomparably more inveterate in their nature, and have a 
far more extensive influence on human character and happiness. 
3. The support which error derives from its accidental associa- 
tion with truth. — The manner in which the association of ideas 
operates in producing this third class of our speculative errors, 
may be conceived, in part, from what was formerly said, con- 
cerning the superstitious observances, which are mixed with the 
practice of medicine among rude nations. As all the different 
circumstances 'which accompanied the first administration of a 
remedy, come to be considered as essential to its future success, 
and are blended together in our conceptions, without any dis- 
crimination of their relative importance ; so, whatever tenets 
and ceremonies we have been taught to connect with the re- 
ligious creed of our infancy, become almost a part of our con- 
stitution, by being indissolubly united with truths which are 
essential to happiness, and which we are led to reverence and to 
love by all the best dispositions of the heart. The astonish- 
ment which the peasant feels, when he sees the rites of a religion 
different from his own, is not less great than if he saw some 
flagrant breach of the moral duties, or some direct act of im- 
piety to God ; nor is it easy for him to conceive, that there can 
be any thing worthy in a mind which treats with indifference 

play the new world to the eyes of a spectator, who still retained a lively 
and recent impression of the old, his surprise and his reflections would 
furnish the pleasing subject of a philosophical romance/' — Decline and 
Fall. vol. 6, pp. 35, 36. 

To these observations may be added a remark of Lord Bacon's, to the 
truth of which our daily experience bears testimony. " Levitas hominum 
atque inconstantia hinc optime perspici potest, qui donee res aliqua per- 
fecta sit, earn mirantur fieri posse ; postquam facta semel est, iterum 
mirantur earn jampridem factam non fuisse." [The levity and incon- 
sistency of men can best be seen in this; — that before a certain thing 
is accomplished, they doubt its possibility; but when it is once done, 
they wonder whvit was not done long ago.] — Bac. De. Aug. Sclent. Lib. L 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 223 

what awakens in his own breast all its best and sublimest emo- 
tions. " Is it possible," says the old and expiring Bramin, in 
one of Marmontel's tales, to the young English officer who had 
saved the life of his daughter, " is it possible, that he to whose 
compassion I owe the preservation of my child, and who now 
soothes my last moments with the consolations of piety, should 
not believe in the god Vistnou, and his nine metamorphoses ! " 

What has now been said on the nature of religious supersti- 
tion, may be applied to many other subjects. In particular, it 
may be applied to those political prejudices which bias the judg- 
ment even of enlightened men in all countries of the world. 

How deeply rooted in the human frame are those important 
principles, which interest the good man in the prosperity of the 
world ; and more especially in the prosperity of that beloved 
community to which he belongs ! How small, at the same time, 
is the number of individuals, who, accustomed to contemplate 
one modification alone of the social order, are able to distinguish 
the circumstances which are essential to human happiness, from 
those which are indifferent or hurtful ! In such a situation, how 
natural is it for a man of benevolence, to acquire an indiscrimi- 
nate and superstitious veneration for all the institutions under 
which he has been educated ; as these institutions, however 
capricious and absurd in themselves, are not only familiarized 
by habit to all his thoughts and feelings, but are consecrated in 
his mind by an indissoluble association with duties which nature 
recommends to his affections, and which reason commands him 
to fulfil. It is on these accounts, that a superstitious zeal against 
innovation, both in religion and politics, where it is evidently 
grafted on piety to God and good-will to mankind, however it 
may excite the sorrow of the more enlightened philosopher, is 
justly entitled, not only to his indulgence, but to his esteem and 
affection. 

The remarks which have been already made, are sufficient to 
show how necessary it is for us, in the formation of our philo- 
sophical principles, to examine with care all those opinions which, 
in our early years, we have imbibed from our instructors ; or 
which are connected with our own local situation. Nor does 



224 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

the universality of an opinion among men who have received 3 
similar education, afford any presumption in its favor ; for how • 
ever great the deference is, which a wise man will always pay to 
common belief, upon those subjects which have employed the 
unbiased reason of mankind, he certainly owes it no respect, in 
so far as he suspects it to be influenced by fashion or authority. 
Nothing can be more just than the observation of Fontenelle, 
that " the number of those who believe in a system already 
established in the world, does not, in the least, add to its credi- 
bility; but that the number of those who doubt of it has a 
tendency to diminish it." 

The same remarks lead, upon the other hand, to another con- 
clusion of still greater importance; that, notwithstanding the 
various false opinions which are current in the world, there are 
some truths which are inseparable from the human understanding, 
and by means of which, the errors of education, in most in- 
stances, are enabled to take hold of our belief. 

A weak mind, unaccustomed to reflection, and which has pas- 
sively derived its most important opinions from habits or from 
authority, when, in consequence of a more enlarged intercourse 
with the world, it finds that ideas which it had been taught to 
regard as sacred, are treated by enlightened and worthy men 
with ridicule, is apt to lose its reverence for the fundamental 
and eternal truths on which these accessory ideas are grafted, 
and easily falls a prey to that skeptical philosophy which teaches, 
that all the opinions, and all the principles of action by which 
mankind are governed, may be traced to the influence of educa- 
tion and example. Amidst the infinite variety of forms, how- 
ever, which our versatile nature assumes, it cannot fail to strike 
an attentive observer, that there are certain indelible features 
common to them all. In one situation, we find good men 
attached to a republican form of government ; in another, to a 
monarchy ; but in all situations, we find them devoted to the 
service of their country and of mankind, and disposed to regard, 
with reverence and love, the most absurd and capricious institu- 
tions which custom has led them to connect with the order of 
society. The different appearances, therefore, which the politi- 



THE INFLUENCE OP CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 225 

cal opinions and the political conduct of men exhibit, while they 
demonstrate to what a wonderful degree human nature may be 
influenced by situation and by early instruction, evince the exist- 
ence of some common and original principles, which fit it for the 
political union, and illustrate the uniform operation of those 
laws of association, to which, in all the stages of society, it is 
equally subject. 

These principles applicable to questions of religion and moral- 
ity. — Similar observations are applicable, and, indeed, in a still 
more striking degree, to the opinions of mankind on the im- 
portant questions of religion and morality. The variety of 
systems which they have formed to themselves concerning these 
subjects, has often excited the ridicule of the skeptic and the 
libertine ; but if, on the one hand, this variety shows the folly 
of bigotry, and the reasonableness of mutual indulgence ; the 
curiosity which has led men in every situation to such specula- 
tions, and the influence which their conclusions, however absurd, 
have had on their character and their happiness, prove, no less 
clearly on the other, that there must be some principles from 
which they all derive their origin ; and invite the philosopher 
to ascertain what are these original and immutable laws of the 
human mind. 

" Examine," says Mr. Hume, " the religious principles which 
have prevailed in the world. You will scarcely be persuaded, 
that there are any thing but sick men's dreams ; or, perhaps, will 
regard them more as the playsome whimseys of monkeys in 
human shape, than the serious, positive, dogmatical asseverations 
of a being who dignifies himself with the name of rational." 
— " To oppose the torrent of scholastic religion by such feeble 
maxims as these, that it is impossible for the same thing to be 
and not to be ; that the whole is greater than a part ; that two 
and three make five : is pretending to stop the ocean with a bul- 
rush." But what is the inference to which we are led by these 
observations ? Is it, to use the words of this ingenious writer, 
" that the whole is a riddle, an enigma, an inexplicable mystery ; 
and that doubt, uncertainty, and suspense, appear the only result 
of our most accurate scrutiny concerning this subject ? " Or 



226 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

should not rather the melancholy histories which lie has ex- 
hibited of the follies and caprices of superstition, direct our 
attention to those sacred and indelible characters on the human 
mind, which all these perversions of reason are unable to 
obliterate ; like that image of himself, which Phidias wished to 
perpetuate, by stamping it so deeply on the buckler of his 
Minerva ; " ut nemo delere posset aut divellere, qui totam stat- 
uam non imminueret ; " [that no one could destroy it or take 
it away, without ruining the whole statue.] In truth, the more 
strange the contradictions, and the more ludicrous the ceremo- 
nies, to which the pride of human reason has thus been recon- 
ciled ; the stronger is our evidence that religion has a foundation 
in the nature of man. When the greatest of modern phi- 
losophers declares, that " he would rather believe all the fables 
in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this 
universal frame is without mind ; " (Lord Bacon, in his Essays ;) 
he has expressed the same feeling, which, in all ages and nations, 
has led good men, unaccustomed to reasoning, to an implicit faith 
in the creed of their infancy : — a feeling which affords an evi- 
dence of the existence of the Deity incomparably more striking, 
than if, unmixed with error and undebased by superstition, this 
most important of all principles had commanded the universal 
assent of mankind. Where are the other truths, in the whole 
circle of the sciences, which are so essential to human happi- 
ness, as to procure an easy access, not only for themselves, but 
for whatever opinions may happen to be blended with them ? 
Where are the truths so venerable and commanding, as to impart 
their own sublimity to every trifling memorial which recalls them 
to our remembrance ; to bestow solemnity and elevation on every 
mode of expression by which they are conveyed ; and which, in 
whatever scene they have habitually occupied the thoughts, con- 
secrate every object which it presents to our senses, and the 
very ground we have been accustomed to tread ? To attempt 
to weaken the authority of such impressions, by a detail of the 
endless variety of forms which they derive from casual associa- 
tions, is surely an employment unsuitable to the dignity of phi- 
losophy. To the vulgar it may be amusing, in this, as in other 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 227 

instances, to indulge their wonder at what is new or uncommon ; 
but to the philosopher it belongs to perceive, under all these 
various disguises, the workings of the same common nature ; and 
in the superstitions of Egypt, no less than in the lofty visions 
of Plato, to recognize the existence of those moral ties which 
unite the heart of man to the Author of his being. 

II. Influence of the association of ideas on our judgments in 
matters of taste. How taste is formed. — The very general 
observations which I am to make in this Section, do not pre- 
suppose any particular theory concerning the nature of taste 
It is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that taste is not a 
simple and original faculty, but a power gradually formed by 
experience and observation. It implies, indeed, as its ground- 
work, a certain degree of natural sensibility ; but it implies also 
the exercise of the judgment ; and is the slow result of an at- 
tentive examination and comparison of the agreeable or dis- 
agreeable effects produced on the mind by external objects. 

The view which was formerly given of the process by which 
the general laws of the material world are investigated, and 
which I endeavored to illustrate by the state of medicine among 
rude nations, is strictly applicable to the history of taste. That 
certain objects are fitted to give pleasure, and others disgust, to 
the mind, we know from experience alone ; and it is impossible 
for us, by any reasoning apriori, to explain how the* pleasure or 
the pain is produced. In the works of nature we find, in many 
instances, beauty and sublimity involved among circumstances 
which are either indifferent, or which obstruct the general 
effect ; and it is only by a train of experiments, that we can 
separate those circumstances from the rest, and ascertain with 
what particular qualities the pleasing effect is connected. Ac- 
cordingly, the inexperienced artist, when he copies nature, 
will copy her servilely, that he may be certain of securing the 
pleasing effect ; and the beauties of his performances will be 
incumbered with a number of superfluous or of disagreeable 
concomitants. Experience and observation alone can enable 
him to make this discrimination ; to exhibit the principles of 
beauty pure and unadulterated, and to form a creation of his 



228 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

own, more faultless than ever fell under the observation of hia 
senses. 

This analogy between the progress of taste from rudeness to 
refinement, and the progress of physical knowledge from the 
superstitions of a savage tribe to the investigation of the laws 
of nature, proceeds on the supposition, that, as in the material 
world there are general facts, beyond which philosophy is un- 
able to proceed ; so, in the constitution of man, there is an in- 
explicable adaptation of the mind to the objects with which 
these faculties are conversant ; in consequence of which, these 
objects are fitted to produce agreeable or disagreeable emotions. 
In both cases, reasoning may be employed with propriety to 
refer particular phenomena to general principles ; but in both 
cases, we must at last arrive at principles of which no account 
can be given, but that such is the will of our Maker. 

The influence of casual associations on taste. — A great part, 
too, of the remarks which were made in the last section on the 
origin of popular prejudices, may be applied to explain the 
influence of casual associations on taste ; but these remarks do 
not so completely exhaust the subject, as to supersede the ne- 
cessity of further illustration. In matters of taste, the effects 
which we consider are produced on the mind itself; and are 
accompanied either with pleasure or with pain. Hence the 
tendency to casual association is much stronger than it com- 
monly is, with respect to physical events ; and when such as 
sociations are once formed, as they do not lead to any important 
inconvenience, similar to those which result from physical mis- 
takes, they are not so likely to be corrected by mere experience, 
unassisted by study. To this it is owing, that the influence of 
association on our judgments concerning beauty and deformity, 
is still more remarkable than on our speculative conclusions ; a 
circumstance which has led some philosophers to suppose, that 
association is sufficient to account for the origin of these notions , 
and that there is no such thing as a standard of taste, founded 
on the principles of the human constitution. But this is un- 
doubtedly pushing the theory a great deal too far. The associ- 
ation of ideas can never account for the origin of a new notion, 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 229 

or of a pleasure essentially different from all the others which 
we know. It may, indeed, enable us to conceive how a thing, 
indifferent in itself, may become a source of pleasure, by being 
connected in the mind with something else which is naturally 
agreeable ; but it presupposes, in every instance, the existence 
of those notions and those feelings which it is its province to 
combine : insomuch that, I apprehend, it will be found, wherever 
association produces a change in our judgments on matters of 
taste, it does so by cooperating with some natural principle of 
the mind, and implies the existence of certain original sources 
of pleasure and uneasiness. 

How fashions change. — A mode of dress, which at first ap- 
peared awkward, acquires, in a few weeks or months, the ap- 
pearance of elegance. By being accustomed to see it worn by 
those whom we consider as models of taste, it becomes asso- 
ciated with the agreeable impressions which we receive from the 
ease and grace and refinement of their manners. When it 
pleases by itself, the effect is to be ascribed, not to the object 
actually before us, but to the impressions with which it has 
been generally connected, and which it naturally recalls to the 
mind. 

This observation points out the cause of the perpetual vicis- 
situdes in dress, and in every thing whose chief recommendation 
arises from fashion. It is evident that, as far as the agreeable 
effect of an ornament arises from association, the effect will 
continue only while it is confined to the higher orders. When 
it is adopted by the multitude, it not only ceases to be asso- 
ciated with ideas of taste and refinement, but it is associated with 
ideas of affectation, absurd imitation, and vulgarity. It is ac- 
cordingly laid aside by the higher orders, who studiously avoid 
every circumstance in external appearance which is debased 
by low and common use ; and they are led to exercise their 
invention in the introduction of some new peculiarities, which 
first become fashionable, then common, and last of all, are 
abandoned as vulgar. 

It has often been remarked, that after a certain period in 
the progress of society, the public taste becomes corrupted ; and 
20 



230 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

the different productions of the fine arts begin to degenerate 
from that simplicity, which they had attained in their state of 
greatest perfection. One reason of this decline is suggested by 
the foregoing observations. 

From the account which has been given of the natural pro- 
gress of taste, in sepflrating the genuine principles of beaut} 
from superfluous and from offensive concomitants, it is evident, 
that there is a limit, beyond which the love of simplicity cannot 
be carried. No bounds, indeed, can be set to the creations of 
genius ; but as this quality occurs seldom in an eminent degree, 
it commonly happens, that after a period of great refinement of 
taste, men begin to gratify their love of variety, by adding 
superfluous circumstances to the finished models exhibited by 
their predecessors, or by making other trifling alterations on 
them, with a view merely of diversifying the effect. These 
additions and alterations, indifferent perhaps, or even in some 
degree offensive in themselves, acquire soon a borrowed beauty, 
from the connection in which we see them, or from the influence 
of fashion : the same cause which at first produced them, con- 
tinues perpetually to increase their number ; and taste returns 
to barbarism, by almost the same steps which conducted it to 
perfection. 

The truth of these remarks will appear still more striking to 
those who consider the wonderful effect which a writer of 
splendid genius, but of incorrect taste, has in misleading the 
public judgment. The peculiarities of such an author are 
consecrated by the connection in which we see them, and even 
please, to a certain degree, when detached from the excellences 
of his composition, by recalling to us the agreeable impressions 
with which they have been formerly associated. How many 
imitations have we seen of the affectations of Sterne, by men 
who were unable to copy his beauties ! And yet these imi- 
tations of his defects ; of his abrupt manner ; of his minute 
specification of circumstances ; and even of his dashes, produce, 
at first, some effect on readers of sensibility, but of uncultivated 
taste, in consequence of the exquisite strokes of the pathetic, 
and the singular vein of humor, with which they are united in 
the original. 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 231 

Two kinds of taste distinguished. — From what has been 
said, it is obvious, that the circumstances which please in the 
objects of taste, are of two kinds : first, those which are fitted 
to please by nature, or by associations which all mankind are 
led to form by their common condition ; and, secondly, those 
which please in consequence of associations arising from local 
and accidental circumstances. Hence, there are two kinds of 
taste ; the one enabling us to judge of those beauties which 
have a foundation in the human constitution ; the other, of such 
objects as derive their principal recommendation from the 
influence of fashion. 

These two kinds of taste are not always united in the same 
person ; indeed, I am inclined to think, that they are united but 
rarely. The perfection of the one depends much upon the 
degree in which we are able to free the mind from the influence 
of casual associations ; that of the other, on the contrary, de- 
pends on a facility of association, which enables us to fall in, at 
once, with all the turns of the fashion, and, as Shakspeare ex- 
presses it, " to catch the tune of the times." 

The influence of association on language. — I shall endeavor 
to illustrate some of the foregoing remarks, by applying them 
to the subject of language, which affords numberless instances 
to exemplify the influence which the association of ideas has on 
our judgments in matters of taste. 

In the same manner in which an article of dress acquired an 
appearance of elegance or of vulgarity from the persons by 
whom it is habitually worn ; so a particular mode of pronuncia- 
tion acquires an air of fashion or of rusticity, from the persons 
by whom it is habitually employed. The Scotch accent is 
surely in itself as good as the English, and with a few excep- 
tions, is as agreeable to the ear ; and yet how offensive does it 
appear, even to us, who have been accustomed to hear it from 
our infancy, when compared with that which is used by our 
southern neighbors ! — No reason can be given for this, but that 
the capital of Scotland is now become a provincial town, and 
London is the seat of our court. 

The distinction which is to be found in the languages of a] I 



232 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

civilized nations, between low and polite modes of expression, 
arises from similar causes. It is, indeed, amusing to remark 
the solicitude with which the higher orders, in the monarchies 
of modern Europe, avoid every circumstance in their exterior 
appearance and manner, which, by the most remote association, 
may, in the minds of others, connect them with the idea of the 
multitude. Their whole dress and deportment and conversation 
are studiously arranged to convey an imposing notion of their 
consequence ; and to recall to the spectator, by numberless slight 
and apparently unintentional hints, the agreeable impressions 
which are associated with the advantages of fortune. 

To this influence of association on language, it is necessary 
for every writer to attend carefully, who wishes to express him- 
self with elegance. For the attainment of correctness and 
purity in the use of words, the rules of grammarians and of 
critics may be a sufficient guide ; but it is not in the works of 
this class of authors, that the higher beauties of style are to be 
studied. As the air and manner of a gentleman can be acquired 
only by living habitually in the best society, so grace in com- 
position must be attained by an habitual acquaintance with 
classical writers. It is indeed necessary for our information, that 
we should peruse occasionally many books which have no merit 
in point of expression ; but I believe it to be extremely useful 
to all literary men, to counteract the effect of this miscellaneous 
reading, by maintaining a constant and familiar acquaintance 
with a few of the most faultless models which the language 
affords. For want of some standard of this sort, we frequently 
see an author's taste in writing alter much to the worse in the 
course of his life ; and his later productions fall below the level 
of his early essays. D'Alembert tells us, that Voltaire had 
always lying on his table the Petit Car£me of Massillon, and 
the tragedies of Racine ; the former to fix his taste in prose 
composition, and the latter in poetry. 

in avoiding, however, expressions which are debased by vul- 
gar use, there is a danger of running into the other extreme in 
quest of fashionable words and phrases. Such an affectation 
oiay, for a few years, gratify the vanity of an author, by giving 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 238 

him the air of a man of the world ; but the reputation it bestows 
is of a very transitory nature. The works which continue to 
please from age to age are written with perfect simplicity, while 
those which captivate the multitude by a display of meretricious 
ornaments, if, by chance, they should survive the fashions to 
which they are accommodated, remain only to furnish a subject 
of ridicule to posterity. The portrait of a beautiful woman in 
the fashionable dress of the day may please at the moment it is 
painted, nay, may perhaps please more than in any that the 
fancy of the artist could have suggested ; but it is only in the 
plainest and simplest drapery that the most perfect form can ba 
transmitted with advantage to future times. 

The exceptions which the history of literature seems to fur- 
nish to these observations are only apparent. That, in the 
works of our best authors there are many beauties which have 
long and generally been admired, and which yet owe their whole 
effect to association, cannot be disputed ; but, in such cases, it 
will always be found that the associations which are the founda- 
tion of our pleasures, have, in consequence of some peculiar 
combination of circumstances, been more widely diffused, and 
more permanently established among mankind, than those which 
date their origin from the caprices of our own age are ever 
likely to be. An admiration for the classical remains of an- 
tiquity is, at present, not less general in Europe than the advan- 
tages of a liberal education ; and such is the effect of this 
admiration, that there are certain caprices of taste from which 
no man who is well educated is entirely free. A composition in 
a modern language, which should sometimes depart from the 
ordinary modes of expression, from an affectation of the idioms 
which are consecrated in the classics, would please a very wide 
circle of readers, in consequence of the prevalence of classical 
associations ; and therefore, such affectations, however absurd 
when carried to a degree of singularity, are of a far superior 
class to those which are adapted to the fashions of the day. 
But still the general principle holds true, that whatever beauties 
derive their original merely from casual association, must appear 
capricious to those to whom the association does not extend ; and 

20* 



234 THE INFLUENCE OP CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

that the simplest style is that which continues longest to please, 
and which pleases most universally. In the writings of Mr. 
Harris, there is a certain classical air which will always have 
many admirers, while ancient learning continues to be cultivated, 
but which, to a mere English reader, appears somewhat un- 
natural and ungraceful, when compared with the composition of 
Swift or of Addison. 

Influence of classical associations on the arts. — The analogy 
of the arts of statuary and painting may be of use in illustrating 
these remarks. The influence of ancient times has extended 
to these, as well as to the art of writing ; and, in this case, no 
less than in the other, the transcendent power of genius has 
established a propriety of choice in matters of indifference, and 
has, perhaps, consecrated in the opinion of mankind some of its 
own caprices. 

" Many of the ornaments of art," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
" those at least for which no reason can be given, are transmitted 
to us, are adopted, and acquire their consequence from the 
company in which we have been used to see them. As Greece 
and Rome are the fountains from whence have flowed all kinds 
of excellence, to that veneration which they have a right to 
claim for the pleasure and knowledge which they have afforded 
us, we voluntarily add our approbation of every ornament and 
every custom that belonged to them, even to the fashion of their 
dress. For it may be observed, that, not satisfied with them in 
their own place, we make no difficulty of dressing statues of 
modern heroes or senators in the fashion of the Roman armor, 
or peaceful robe, and even go so far as hardly to bear a statue 
in any other drapery. 

" The figures of the great men of those nations have come 
down to us in sculpture. In sculpture remain almost all the 
excellent specimens of ancient art. We have so far associated 
personal dignity to the persons thus represented, and the truth 
of art to their manner of representation, that it is not in our 
power any longer to separate them. This is not so in painting, 
because, having no excellent ancient portraits, that connection 
was never formed. Indeed, we could no more venture to paint 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 235 

a general officer in a Roman military habit, than we could make 
a statue in the present uniform. But since we have no ancient 
portraits to show how ready we are to adopt those kind of preju- 
dices, we make the best authority among the moderns serve the 
same purpose. The great variety of excellent portraits with 
which Vandyke has enriched this nation, we are not content to 
admire for their real excellence, but extend our approbation even 
to the dress which happened to be the fashion of that age. By 
this means, it must be acknowledged, very ordinary pictures 
acquired something of the air and effect of the works of Van- 
dyke, and appeared therefore, at first sight, better pictures than 
they really were. They appeared so, however, to those only 
who had the means of making this association." 

The language of poetry affected by casual associations. — The 
influence of association on our notions concerning language, is 
still more strongly exemplified in poetry than in prose. As it 
is one great object of the poet, in his serious productions, to 
elevate the imagination of his readers above the grossness of 
sensible objects, and the vulgarity of common life, it becomes 
peculiarly necessary for him to reject the use of all words and 
phrases which are trivial and hackneyed. Among those which 
are equally pure and equally perspicuous, he, in general, finds 
it expedient to adopt that which is the least common. Milton 
prefers the words Rhene and Danaw to the more common words 
Rhine and Danube : — 

"A multitude, like which the populous North 
Pour'd never from his frozen loins, to pass 
Rhene or the Danaw." 

In the following line, 

" Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme," 

how much more suitable to the poetical style does the expression 
appear, than if the author had said, 

" Things unattempted yet in prose or verse." 

In another passage, where, for the sake of variety, he has made 



236 THE INFLUENCE OP CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

use of the last phrase, he adds an epithet, to remove it a little 
from the familiarity of ordinary discourse. 



in prose or numerous verse. 



Peculiarities of poetical diction. — In consequence of this cir- 
cumstance, there arises gradually in every language a poetical 
diction, which differs widely from the common diction of prose. 
It is much less subject to the vicissitudes of fashion, than the 
polite modes of expression in familiar conversation; because, 
when it has once been adopted by the poet, it is avoided by 
good prose writers, as being too elevated for that species of com- 
position. It may therefore retain its charm, as long as the lan- 
guage exists ; nay, the charm may increase, as the language 
grows older. 

Indeed, the charm of poetical diction must increase to a cer- 
tain degree, as polite literature advances. For when once a set 
of words has been consecrated to poetry, the very sound of 
them, independently of the ideas they convey, awakens, every 
time we hear it, the agreeable impressions which were connected 
with it when we met with them in the performances of our favorite 
authors. Even when strung together in sentences which con- 
vey no meaning, they produce some effect on the mind of a 
reader of sensibility ; an effect, at least, extremely different from 
that of an unmeaning sentence in prose. 

Languages differ from each other widely in the copiousness 
of their poetical diction. Our own possesses, in this respect, 
important advantages over the French ; not that in this language 
there are no words appropriated to poetry, but because their 
number is, comparatively speaking, extremely limited. 

The scantiness of the French poetical diction is, probably, 
attended with the less inconvenience, that the phrases which 
occur in good prose writing are less degraded by vulgar appli- 
cation than in English, in consequence of the line being more 
distinctly and more strongly drawn between polite and low ex- 
pressions in that language than in ours. Our poets, indeed, by 
having a language appropriated to their own purposes, not only 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATION 6. 237 

can preserve dignity of expression, but can connect with the 
perusal of their compositions, the pleasing impressions which 
have been produced by those of their predecessors. And hence, 
in the higher sorts of poetry, where their object is to kindle, as 
much as possible, the enthusiasm of their readers, they not only 
avoid, studiously, all expressions which are vulgar, but all such 
as are borrowed from fashionable life. This certainly cannot 
be done in an equal degree by a poet who writes in the French 
language. 

In English, the poetical diction is so extremely copious, that 
it is liable to be abused ; as it puts it in the power of authors of 
no genius, merely by ringing changes on the poetical vocabu- 
lary, to give a certain degree of currency to the most unmean- 
ing compositions. In Pope's Song by a Person of Quality, the 
incoherence of ideas is scarcely greater than what is to be found 
in some admired passages of our fashionable poetry. 

Nor is it merely by a difference of words, that the language 
of poetry is distinguished from that of prose. When a poetical 
arrangement of words has once been established by authors of 
reputation, the most common expressions, by being presented in 
this consecrated order, may serve to excite poetical associations. 

On the other hand, nothing more completely destroys the 
charm of poetry, than a string of words which the custom of 
ordinary discourse has arranged in so invariable an order, that 
the whole phrase may be anticipated from hearing its com- 
mencement. A single word frequently strikes us as flat and 
prosaic, in consequence of its familiarity ; but two such words, 
coupled together in the order of conversation, can scarcely be 
introduced into serious poetry without appearing ludicrous. 

No poet in our language has shown so strikingly as Milton, 
the wonderful elevation which style may derive from an 
arrangement of words, which, while it is perfectly intelligible, 
departs widely from that to which we are in general accustomed. 
Many of his most sublime periods, when the order of the words 
is altered, are reduced nearly to the level of prose. 

To eopy this artifice with success is a much more difficult 
attainment than is commonly imagined: and, of consequence, 



238 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

when it is acquired, it secures an author, to a great degree, 
from that crowd of imitators who spoil the effect of whatever 
is not beyond their reach. To the poet who uses blank verse, 
it is an acquisition of still more essential consequence than to 
him who expresses himself in rhyme ; for the more that the 
structure of the verse approaches to prose, the more it is neces- 
sary to give novelty and dignity to the composition. And ac- 
cordingly, among our magazine poets, ten thousand catch the 
structure of Pope's versification, for one who approaches to the 
manner of Milton or of Thomson. 

The facility, however, of this imitation, like every other, in- 
creases with the number of those who have studied it with suc- 
cess ; for the more numerous the authors who have employed 
their genius in any one direction, the more copious are the 
materials out of which mediocrity may select and combine, so 
as to escape the charge of plagiarism. And, in fact, in our own 
language, this, as well as the other great resource of poetical 
expression, the employment of appropriated words, has had its 
effects so much impaired by the abuse which has been made of 
it, that a few of our best poets of late have endeavored to 
strike out a new path for themselves, by resting the elevation 
for their composition chiefly on a singular, and, to an ordinary 
writer, an unattainable, union of harmonious versification with 
a natural arrangement of words and a simple elegance of ex- 
pression. It is this union which seems to form the distinguish- 
ing charm of the poetry of Goldsmith. 

From the remarks which have been made on the influence of 
the association of ideas on our judgments in matters of taste, it 
is obvious how much the opinions of a nation with respect to 
merit in the fine arts, are likely to be influenced by the form of 
their government, and the state of their manners. Voltaire, in 
his discourse pronounced at his reception into the French 
academy, gives several reasons why the poets of that country 
have not succeeded in describing rural scenes and employments. 
The principal one is, the ideas of meanness, and poverty, and 
wretchedness, which the French are accustomed to associate 
with the profession of husbandry. The same thing is alluded 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 238 

to by the Abbe de Li^le, in the preliminary discourse prefixed 
to his translation of the Georgics. " A translation," says he, 
" of this poem, if it had been undertaken by an author of genius, 
would have been better calculated than any other work, for add- 
ing to the riches of our language. A version of the iEneid itself, 
however well executed, would, in this respect be of less utility , 
inasmuch as the genius of our tongue accommodates itself more 
easily to the description of heroic achievements, than to the 
details of natural phenomena, and of the operations of hus- 
bandry. To force it to express these with suitable dignity, 
would have been a real conquest over that false delicacy, which 
it has contracted from our unfortunate prejudices." 

How ditferent must have been the emotions with which this 
divine performance of Virgil was read by an ancient Roman, 
while he recollected that period in the history of his country, 
when dictators were called from the plough to the defence of 
the state, and after having led monarchs in triumph, returned 
again to the same happy and independent occupation. A state 
of manners to which a Roman author of a later age looked 
back with such enthusiasm, that he ascribes, by a bold, poetical 
figure, the flourishing state of agriculture under the republic, to 
the grateful returns which the earth then made to the illustrious 
hands by which she was cultivated. " Gaudente terra vomere 
laureato, et triumphali aratore." [The land rejoicing because 
the plough is wreathed with laurel, and the husbandman has 
received the honors of a triumph.] (Plin. Nat. Hist, xviii. 4.) 

III. Of the influence of association on our active principles, 
and on our moral judgments. — In order to illustrate a little further 
the influence of the association of ideas on the human mind, I 
shall add a few remarks on some of its effects on our active 
and moral principles. In stating these remarks, I shall en- 
deavor to avoid, as much as possible, every occasion of contro- 
versy, by confining myself to such general views of the subject, 
as do not presuppose any particular enumeration of our original 
principles of action, or any particular system concerning the 
nature of the moral faculty. If my health and leisure enable 
me to carry my plans into execution, I propose, in the sequel of 



240 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

this work, to resume these inquiries, and to examine the various 
opinions to which they have given rise. 

The manner in which the association of ideas operates in 
producing new principles of action, has been explained very 
distinctly by different writers. Whatever conduces to the 
gratification of any natural appetite, or any natural desire, is 
itself desired on account of the end to which it is subservient ; 
and by being thus habitually associated in our apprehension 
with agreeable objects, it frequently comes, in process of time, U 
be regarded as valuable in itself, independently of its utility 
It is thus that wealth becomes, with many an ultimate object of 
pursuit ; although, at first, it is undoubtedly valued merely on 
account of its subserviency to the attainment of other objects. In 
like manner, men are led to desire dress, equipage, retinue, 
furniture, on account of the estimation in which they are sup- 
posed to be held by the public. Such desires are called by Dr. 
Hutcheson, (see his Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the 
Passions,) secondary desires ; and their origin is explained by 
him in the way in which I have mentioned. " Since we are 
capable," says he, " of reflection, memory, observation, and 
reasoning about the distant tendencies of objects and actions, 
and not confined to things present, there must arise, in conse- 
quence of our original desires, secondary desires of every thing 
imagined useful to gratify any of the primary desires ; and that 
with strength proportioned to the several original desires, and 
imagined usefulness or necessity of the advantageous object." 
" Thus," he continues, " as soon as we come to apprehend the 
use of wealth or power to gratify any of our original desires, 
we must also desire them ; and hence arises the universality of 
ihese desires of wealth and power, since they are the means of 
gratifying all other desires." The only thing that appears to 
me exceptionable in the foregoing passage is, that the author 
classes the desire of power with that of wealth ; whereas I 
apprehend it to be clear, (for reasons which I shall state in an- 
other part of this work,) that the former is a primary desire, 
and the latter a secondary one. 

How our moral judgments are perverted. — Our moral judg- 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 241 

ments, too, may be modified, and even perverted, to a certain 
degree, in consequence of the operation of the same principle 
In the same manner in which a person who is regarded as a 
model of taste may introduce, by his example, an absurd or 
fantastical dress; so a -man of splendid virtues may attract 
some esteem also to his imperfections ; and, if placed in a con- 
spicuous situation, may render his vices and follies objects of 
general imitation among the multitude. 

" Iu the reign of Charles II." says Mr. Smith, {Theory of 
Moral Sentiments,) " a degree of licentiousness was deemed the 
characteristic of a liberal education. It was connected, accord- 
ing to the notions of those times, with generosity, sincerity, 
magnanimity, loyalty ; and proved that the person who acted in 
this manner was a gentleman, and not a puritan. Severity of 
manners and regularity of conduct, on the other hand, we're 
altogether unfashionable, and were connected, in the imagin- 
ation of that age, with cant, cunning, hypocrisy, and low man- 
ners. To superficial minds, the vices of the great seem at a! 
times agreeable. They connect them, not only with the splendor 
of fortune, but with many superior virtues which they ascribe 
to their superiors ; with the spirit of freedom and indepen- 
dency ; with frankness, generosity, humanity, and politeness. 
The virtues of the inferior ranks of people, on the contrary, 
their parsimonious frugality, their painful industry, and rigid ad- 
herence to rules, seem to them mean and disagreeable. They 
connect them both with the meanness of the station to which 
these qualities commonly belong, and with many great vices 
which they suppose usually accompany them ; such as an abject, 
cowardly, ill-natured, lying, pilfering disposition." 

Tlie attempt to resolve all our affections and the moral sense 
into the association of ideas. — The theory which, in the fore- 
going passages from Hutcheson and Smith, is employed so 
justly and philosophically to explain the origin of our secondary 
desires, and to account for some perversions of our moral judg- 
ments, has been thought sufficient, by some later writers, to ac- 
count for the origin of all our active principles without excep- 
tion. The first of these attempts to extend so very far the 

21 



242 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

application of the doctrine of Association was made by the 
Reverend Mr. Gay, in a dissertation " concerning the funda- 
mental Principle of Virtue," which is prefixed by Dr. Law to 
his translation of Archbishop King's essay " on the Origin of 
Evil." In this dissertation, the author endeavors to show, 
" that our approbation of morality, and all affections whatsoever, 
are finally resolvable into reason, pointing out private happiness, 
and are conversant only about things apprehended to be means 
tending to this end ; and that, wherever this end is not perceived, 
they are to be accounted for from the association of ideas, and 
may properly be called habits." The same principles have 
been since pushed to a much greater length by Dr. Hartley, 
whose system (as he himself informs us) took rise from his 
accidentally hearing it mentioned as an opinion of Mr. Gay, 
" that the association of ideas was sufficient to account for all 
our intellectual pleasures and pains." * 

It must, I think, in justice, be acknowledged, that this theory, 
concerning the origin of our affections and of the moral sense, 
is a most ingenious refinement upon the selfish system, as it was 
formerly taught ; and that, by means of it, the force of many 
of the common reasonings against that system is eluded. Among 
these reasonings, particular stress has always been laid on the in- 
stantaneousness with which our affections operate, and the moral 
sense approves or condemns ; and on our total want of conscious- 
ness, in such cases, of any reference to our own happiness. The 
modern advocates for the selfish system admit the fact to be as 
it is stated by their opponents ; and grant, that after the moral 
sense and our various affections are formed, their exercise, in 
particular cases, may become completely disinterested ; but still 
they contend, that it is upon a. regard to our own happiness that 
all these principles are originally grafted. The analogy of 



* Mr. Hume, too, who in my opinion has canned this principle of 
the association of ideas a great deal too far, has compared the universality 
of its applications in the philosophy of mind, to that of the principle of 
attraction in physics. "Here," says he, "is a kind of attraction , which 
in the mental world will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in 
the natural, and to show itself in as many and as various forms." 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 243 

avarice will serve to illustrate the scope of this theory It 
cannot be doubted that this principle of action is artificial. It 
is on account of the enjoyments which it enables us to purchase, 
that money is originally desired ; and yet, in process of time, by 
means of the agreeable impressions which are associated with 
it, it comes to be desired for its own sake ; and even continues 
to be an object of our pursuit, long after we have lost all relish 
for those enjoyments which it enables us to command. 

Without meaning to engage in any controversy on the subject, 
I shall content myself with observing, in general, that there 
must be some limit, beyond which the theory of association cannot 
possibly be carried ; for the explanation which it gives, of the 
formation of new principles of action, proceeds on the supposi- 
tion that there are other principles previously existing in the 
mind. The great question then is, when we are arrived at this 
limit, or, in other words, when we are arrived at the simple and 
original laws of our constitution. 

Number of original principles in the mind. — In conducting 
this inquiry, philosophers have been apt to go into extremes. 
Lord Kaimes, and some other authors, have been censured, and 
perhaps justly, for a disposition to multiply original principles 
to an unnecessary degree. It may be questioned, whether Dr. 
Hartley and his followers have not sometimes been misled by 
too eager a desire of abridging their number. 

Of these two errors, the former is the least common, and the 
least dangerous. It is the least common, because it is not so 
flattering as the other to the vanity of a theorist ; and it is the 
least dangerous, because it has no tendency, like the other, to 
give rise to a suppression or to a misrepresentation of facts ; or 
to retard the progress of the science, by bestowing upon it an 
appearance of systematical perfection, to which, in its present 
state, it is not entitled. 

Abstracting, however, from these inconveniences, which must 
always result from a precipitate reference of phenomena to 
general principles, it does not seem to me, that the theory in 
question has any tendency to weaken the foundation of morals. 
It has, indeed, some tendency, in common with the philosophy 



244 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

of Hobbes and of Mandeville, to degrade the dignity of human 
nature ; but it leads to no skeptical conclusions concerning the 
rule of life. For although we were to grant, that all our prin- 
ciples of action are acquired ; so striking a difference among 
them must still be admitted, as is sufficient to distinguish clearly 
those universal laws which were intended to regulate human 
conduct, from the local habits which are formed by education 
and fashion. It must still be admitted, that, while some active 
principles are confined to particular individuals, or to particular 
tribes of men, there are others, which, arising from circumstances 
in which all the situations of mankind must agree, are common 
to the whole species. Such active principles as fall under this 
last description, at whatever period of life they may appear, are 
to be regarded as a part of human nature, no less than the in- 
stinct of suction ; in the same manner as the acquired perception 
of distance by the eye, is to be ranked among the perceptive 
powers of man, no less than the original perceptions of any of 
our other senses. 

Leaving, therefore, the question concerning the origin of our 
active principles and of the moral faculty, to be the subject of 
future discussion, I shall conclude this Section with a few 
remarks of a more practical nature. 

Opinion of the relative value of different pursuits. — It has 
been shown by different writers, how much of the beauty and 
sublimity of material objects arise from the ideas and feel- 
ings which we have been taught to associate with them. The 
impression produced on the external senses of a poet by the 
most striking scene in nature, is precisely the same with what is 
produced on the senses of a peasant or a tradesman ; yet how 
different is the degree of pleasure resulting from this impres- 
sion! A great part of this difference is undoubtedly to be 
ascribed to the ideas and feelings which the habitual studies and 
amusements of the poet have associated with his organical per- 
ceptions. 

A similar observation may be applied to all the various objects 
of our pursuit in life. Hardly any one of them is appreciated 
by any two men in the same manner ; and frequently, what one 



THE INFLUENCE OP CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 245 

man considers as essential to his happiness is regarded with 
indifference or dislike by another. Of these differences of 
opinion much is, no doubt, to be ascribed to a diversity of con- 
stitution, which renders a particular employment of the intellec- 
tual or active powers agreeable to one man which is not equally 
so to another. But much is also to be ascribed to the effect of 
association ; which, prior to any experience of human life, con- 
nects pleasing ideas and pleasing feelings with different objects, 
in the minds of different persons. 

In consequence of these associations, every man appears to 
his neighbor to pursue the objects of his wishes with a zeal dis- 
proportioned to its intrinsic value ; and the philosopher (whose 
principal enjoyment arises from speculation) is frequently apt to 
smile at the ardor with which the active part of mankind pur- 
sue w*hat appear to him to be mere shadows. This view of 
human affairs some writers have carried so far, as to represent 
life as a scene of mere illusions, where the mind refers to the 
objects around it, a coloring which exists only in itself; and 
where, as the poet expresses it, 

" Opinion gilds with varying rays 

Those painted clouds which beautify our days. ,y 

It may be questioned, if these representations of human life 
be useful or just. That the casual associations which the mind 
forms in childhood and in early youth, are frequently a source 
of inconvenience and of misconduct, is sufficiently obvious ; but 
that this tendency of our nature increases, on the whole, the 
sum of human enjoyment, appears to me to be indisputable ; 
and the instances in which it misleads us from our duty and our 
happiness, only prove to what important ends it might be sub- 
servient if it were kept under proper regulation. 

Nor do these representations of life (admitting them in their 
full extent) justify the practical inferences which have been 
often deduced from them with respect to the vanity of our pur- 
suits. In every case, indeed, in which our enjoyment depends 
upon association, it may be said, in one sense, that it arises 
from the mind itself; but it does not, therefore, follow, that the 
21* 



246 THE INFLUENCE OP CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

external object which custom Has rendered the cause or the 
occasion of agreeable emotions, is indifferent to our happiness. 
The effect which the beauties of nature produce on the mind of 
the poet is wonderfully heightened by association ; but his enjoy- 
ment is not on that account the less exquisite ; nor are the objects 
of his admiration of the less value to his happiness, that they de- 
rive their principal charms from the embellishments of his fancy. 

After all the complaints that have been made of the peculiar 
distresses which are incident to cultivated minds, who would 
exchange the sensibilities of his intellectual and moral being 
for the apathy of those whose only avenues of pleasure and 
pain are to be found in their animal nature ; " who move 
thoughtlessly in the narrow circle of their existence, and to 
whom the falling leaves present no idea but that of approaching 
winter ? " — Goethe. 

Effects which education might produce. — It is the business of 
education, not to counteract, in any instance, the established 
laws of our constitution, but to direct them to their proper pur- 
poses. That the influence of early associations on the mind 
might be employed, in the most effectual manner, to aid our moral 
principles, appears evidently from the effects which we daily see 
it produce, in reconciling men to a course of action which 
their reason forces them to condemn ; and it is no less obvious 
that by means of it, the happiness of human life might be in- 
creased, and its pains diminished, if the agreeable ideas and 
feelings which children are so apt to connect with events and 
with situations which depend on the caprice of fortune, were 
firmly associated in their apprehensions with the duties of their 
stations, with the pursuits of science, and with those beauties of 
nature which are open to all. 

These observations coincide nearly with the ancient Stoical 
doctrine concerning the influence of imagination * on morals ; 

* According to the use which I make of the words imagination and asscy- 
ciation in this work, their effects ai*e obviously distinguishable. I have 
thought it proper, however, to illustrate the difference between them a little 
more fully. 

The difference between the effects of association and of imagination, in 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 247 

a subject on which many important remarks, (though expressed 
in a form different from that which modern philosophers have 
introduced, and, perhaps, not altogether so precise and accu- 
rate,) are to be found in the Discourses of Epictetus, and in 
the Meditations of Antoninus. This doctrine of the Stoical 
school Dr. Akenside has in view in the following passage : — 

" Action treads the path 
In which Opinion says he follows good, 
Or flies from evil ; and Opinion gives 
Report of good or evil, as the scene 



the sense in which I employ these words, in heightening the pleasure or 
the pain produced on the mind by external objects, will appear from the 
following remarks : — 

1 . As far as the association of ideas operates in heightening pleasure or 
pain, the mind is passive : and accordingly, where such associations are a 
source of inconvenience, they are seldom to be cured by an effort of our 
volition., or even by reasoning ; but by the gradual formation of contran 
associations. Imagination is an active exertion of the mind ; and al- 
though it may often be difficult to restrain it, it is plainly distinguishable 
in theory from the associations now mentioned. 

2. In every case in which the association of ideas operates, it is implied 
that some pleasure or pain is recalled which was felt by the mind before. I 
visit, for example, a scene where I have been once happy ; and the sight of 
it affects me, on that account, with a degree of pleasure, which I should 
not have received from any other scene equally beautiful. I shall not 
inquire, whether, in such cases, the associated pleasure arises immediately 
upon the sight of the object, and without the intervention of any train of 
thought ; or whether it is produced by the recollection and conception of 
former occurrences which the perception recalls. On neither supposition 
does it imply the exercise of that creative power of the mind to which we 
have given the name of Imagination. It is true, that commonly, on such 
occasions, imagination is busy ; and our pleasure is much heightened by 
the coloring which she gives to the objects of memory. But the difference 
between the effects which arise from the operation of this faculty, and those 
which result from association, is not, on that account, the less real. 

The influence of imagination on happiness is chiefly felt by cultivated 
minds. That of association extends to all ranks of men, and furnishes the 
chief instrument of education ; insomuch that whoever has the regulation 
of the associations of another from early infancy, is, to a great degree, the 
arbiter of his happiness or misery. 

Some very ingenious writers have employed the word association in so 



248 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

Was drawn by fancy, lovely or deformed : 

Thus her report can never there be true, 

"Where fancy cheats the intellectual eye 

"With glaring colors and distorted lines. 

Is there a man, who at the sound of death 

Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjured up, 

And black before him : nought but death-bed groans 

And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink 

Of light and being, down the gloomy air, 

An unknown depth ? Alas ! in such a mind, 

If no bright forms of excellence attend 

The image of his country ; nor the pomp 

Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice 

Of justice on her throne, nor ought that wakes 

The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame : 

"Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, 

Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill 

Than to betray his country 1 And in act 

Will he not choose to be a wretch and live 1 

Here vice begins then." — Pleasures of Imagination, b. iii. 

IV. General remarks on the subjects treated in the foregoing 
sections. — In pursuing the foregoing Sections of this Chapter, 
I am aware, that some of my readers may be apt to think that 
many of the observations which I have made, might easily be 
resolved into more general principles. I am also aware, that to 
the followers of Dr. Hartley, a similar objection will occur 



extensive a sense, as to comprehend, not only imagination, but all the 
other faculties of the mind. Wherever the pleasing or the painful effect of 
an object does not depend solely on the object itself, but arises either 
wholly or in part from some mental operation to which the perception of it 
gives rise, the effect is referred to association. And, undoubtedly, this 
language may be employed with propriety, if the word association be ap- 
plied to all the ideas and feelings which may arise in the mind, in conse- 
quence of the exercise which the sight of the object may give to the 
imagination, to the ' reasoning powers, and to the other principles of our 
nature. But in this work, and particularly in the second part of chap, v., 
I employ the word association in a much more limited sense ; to express 
the effect which an object derives from ideas, or from feelings which it docs not 
necessarily suggest, but which it uniformly recalls to the mind, in consequence of 
early and long continued habits. 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 249 

against all the other parts of this work ; and that it will appear 
to them the effect of inexcusable prejudice, that I shall stop 
short so frequently in the explanation of phenomena ; when he 
has accounted in so satisfactory a manner, by means of the 
association of ideas, for all the appearances which human nature- 
exhibits. 

To this objection, I shall not feel myself much interested to 
reply, provided it be granted that my observations are candidly 
and accurately stated, so far as they reach. Supposing that in 
some cases I may have stopped short too soon, my speculations, 
although they may be censured as imperfect, cannot be con- 
sidered as standing in opposition to the conclusions of more 
successful inquirers. 

May I be allowed further to observe, that such views of the 
human mind as are contained in this work, (even supposing the 
objection to be well founded,) are, in my opinion, indispensably 
necessary, in order to prepare the way for those very general 
and comprehensive theories concerning it, which some eminent 
writers of the present age have been ambitious to form ? 

Concerning the merit of these theories, I shall not presume to 
give any judgment. I shall only remark, that, in all the other 
sciences, the progress of discovery has been gradual, from the 
less general to the more general laws of nature ; and that it 
would be singular, indeed, if in the philosophy of the human 
mind, a science which but a few years ago was confessedly in its 
infancy, and "which certainly labors under many disadvantages 
peculiar to itself, a step should, all at once, be made to a single 
principle comprehending all the particular phenomena which we 
know. 

Particular facts are to be taught first ; refined theories after- 
wards. — Supposing such a theory to be completely established, 
it would still be proper to lead the minds of students to it by 
gradual steps. One of the most important uses of theory, is to 
give the memory a permanent hold, and a prompt command, ol 
the particular facts which we were previously acquainted with ; 
and no theory can be completely understood, unltss the mind be 
led to it nearly in the order of investigation. 



250 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

It is more particularly useful, in conducting the studies of 
others, to familiarize their minds, as completely as possible, with 
those laws of nature for which we have the direct evidence of 
sense, or of consciousness, before directing their inquiries to the 
more abstruse and refined generalizations of speculative curi- 
osity. In natural philosophy, supposing the theory of Boscovich 
to be true, it would still be proper, or rather indeed absolutely 
necessary, to accustom students, in the first stage of their physi- 
cal education, to dwell on those general physical facts which fall 
under our actual observation, and about which all the practical 
arts of life are conversant. In like manner, in the philosophy 
of mind, there are many general facts for which we have the 
direct evidence of consciousness. The words, attention, concep- 
tion, memory, abstraction, imagination, curiosity, ambition, com- 
passion, resentment, express powers and principles of our nature, 
which every man may study by reflecting on his own internal 
operations. Words corresponding to these are to be found in 
all languages, and may be considered as forming the first attempt 
towards a philosophical classification of intellectual and moral 
phenomena. Such a classification, however imperfect and indis- 
tinct, we may be assured, must have some foundation in nature ; 
and it is at least prudent, for a philosopher to keep it in view as 
the groundwork of his own arrangement. It not only directs 
our attention to those facts in the human constitution, on which 
every solid theory in this branch of science must be founded ; 
but to the facts, which, in all ages, have appeared to the common 
sense of mankind to be the most striking and important ; and 
of which it ought to be the great object of theorists, not to 
supersede, but to facilitate the study. 

Difficulty of resolving facts into general principles. — There is 
indeed good reason for believing, that many of the facts which 
our consciousness would lead us to consider, upon a superficial 
view, as ultimate facts, are resolvable into other principles still 
more general. " Long before we are capable of reflection," says 
Dr. Reid, " the original perceptions and notions of the mind are 
so mixed, compounded, and decompounded, by habits, associa- 
tions, and abstractions, that it is extremelv difficult for the mind 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 251 

to return upon its own footsteps, and trace back those operations 
which have employed it since it first began to think and to act." 
The same author remarks, that, " if we could obtain a distinct 
and full history of all that hath passed in the mind of a child, 
from the beginning of life and sensation, till it grows up to the 
use of reason ; how its infant faculties began to work, and how 
they brought forth and ripened all the various notions, opinions, 
and sentiments, which we find in ourselves when we come to 
be capable of reflection; this would be a treasure of Natural 
History, which would probably give more light into the human 
faculties than all the systems of philosophers about them, since 
the beginning of the world." To accomplish an analysis of 
these complicated phenomena into the simple and original prin- 
ciples of our constitution, is the great object of this branch of 
philosophy ; but, in order to succeed, it is necessary to ascertain 
facts before we begin to reason, and to avoid generalizing, in 
any instance, till we have completely secured the ground that 
we have gained. Such a caution, which is necessary in all the 
sciences, is, in a more particular manner, necessary here, where 
the very facts from which all our inferences must be drawn, are 
to be ascertained only by the most patient attention ; and where 
almost all of them are, to a great degree, disguised ; partly by 
the inaccuracies of popular language, and partly by the mistaken 
theories of philosophers. 

Illustrations drawn from the philosophy of chemistry. — As the 
order established in the intellectual world seems to be regulated 
by laws perfectly analogous to those which we trace among the 
phenomena of the material system ; and as in all our philosophical 
inquiries, (to whatever subject they may relate,) the progress of 
the mind is liable to be affected by the same tendency to a pre- 
mature generalization, the following extract from an eminent 
chemical writer may contribute to illustrate the scope, and to 
confirm the justness, of some of the foregoing reflections. 

" Within the last fifteen or twenty years, several new metals 
and new earths have been made known to the world. The 
names that support these discoveries are respectable, and the 
experiments decisive. If we do not give our assent to them, no 



252 THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

single proposition in chemistry can for a moment stand. But 
whether all these are really simple substances, or compounds 
not yet resolved into their elements, is what the authors them- 
selves cannot possibly assert ; nor would it in the least diminish 
the merit of their observations, if future experiment should prove 
them to have been mistaken as to the simplicity of these sub- 
stances. This remark should not be confined to late discoveries ; 
it may as justly be applied to those earths and metals with which 
we have been long acquainted." — "In the dark ages of chemis- 
try, the object was to rival nature ; and the substance which the 
adepts of those days were busied to create, was universally 
allowed to be simple. In a more enlightened period, we have 
extended our inquiries, and multiplied the number of the ele- 
ments. The last task will be to simplify ; and, by a closer 
observation of nature, to learn from what small store of primi- 
tive materials, all that we behold and wonder at was created." 
Chenevix' Inquiries concerning Palladium. 

The analogy between the history of Chemistry and that of 
the Philosophy of the Human Mind, which has often struck me 
in contrasting the views of the alchemist with those of Lavoisier 
and his followers, has acquired much additional value and im- 
portance in my estimation, since I had the pleasure to peruse a 
late work of M. de Gerando ; in which I find, that the same 
analogy has presented itself to that most judicious philosopher, 
and has been applied by him to the same practical purpose, of 
exposing the false pretensions and premature generalizations of 
some modern metaphysicians. 

" It required nothing less than the united splendor of the dis- 
coveries brought to light by the new chemical school, to tear the 
minds of men from the pursuit of a simple and primary element; 
a pursuit renewed in every age with an indefatigable persever- 
ance, and always renewed in vain. With what feelings of con- 
tempt would the physiologists of former times have looked down 
on the chemists of the present age, whose limited and circum- 
scribed system admits nearly forty dhTerent principles in the 
composition of bodies ! What a subject of ridicule would the 
new nomenclature have afforded to an alchemist ! " 



THE INFLUENCE OF CASUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 253 

"The Philosophy of Mind has its alchemists also: — men 
whose studies are directed to the pursuit of one single principle, 
into which the whole science may be resolved, and who natter 
themselves with the hope of discovering the grand secret, by 
which the pure Gold of Truth may be produced at pleasure." 

Among these alchemists in the science of the mind, the first 
place is undoubtedly due to Dr. Hartley, who not only attempts 
to account for all the phenomena of human nature from the 
single principle of association, combined with the hypothetical 
assumption of an invisible fluid or ether, producing vibrations in 
the medullary substance of the brain and nerves ; but indulges 
his imagination in anticipating an era, " when future generations 
shall put all kinds of evidences and inquiries into mathematical 
forms ; reducing Aristotle's ten Categories and Bishop Wilkins' 
forty Summa Genera, to the head of quantity alone, so as to 
make Mathematics and Logic, Natural History and Civil His- 
tory, Natural Philosophy and philosophy of all other kinds, 
coincide omni ex parte." If I had never read another sentence 
of this author, I should have required no further evidence of 
the unsoundness of his understanding. 

The nomenclature of philosophy. — I have only to add, that, 
although I have retained the phrase of the association of ideas, 
in compliance with common language, I am far from being com- 
pletely satisfied with this mode of expression. I have retained 
it, chiefly that I might not expose myself to the censure of 
delivering old doctrines in a new form. 

As I have endeavored to employ it with caution, I hope that it 
has not often misled me in my reasonings. At the same time, 
I am more and more convinced of the advantages to be derived 
from a reformation of the common language, in most of the 
branches of science. How much such a reformation has effected 
in Chemistry is well known ; and it is evidently much more 
necessary in the Philosophy of Mind, where the prevailing lan- 
guage adds to the common inaccuracies of popular expressions, 
the peculiar disadvantage of being all suggested by the analogy 
of matter. Often, in the composition of this work, have I recol- 
lected the advice of Bergman to Morveau : " Ir reforming the 

22 



254 MEMORY. 

nomenclature of Chemistry, spare no word which is improper. 
They who understand the subject already, will suffer no incon- 
venience ; and they to whom the subject is new, will comprehend 
it with the greater facility." But it belongs to such authors 
alone as have extended the boundaries of science by their own 
discoveries, to introduce innovations in language with any hope 
of success. 



CHAPTER VI. 

OP MEMORY. 

I. General observations on Memory. — Among the various 
powers of the understanding, there is none which has been so 
attentively examined by philosophers, or concerning which so 
many important facts and observations have been collected, as 
the faculty of Memory. This is partly to be ascribed to its 
nature, which renders it easily distinguishable from all the other 
principles of our constitution, even by those who have not been 
accustomed to metaphysical investigations; and partly to its 
immediate subserviency, not only to the pursuits of science, but 
to the ordinary business of life ; in consequence of which, many 
of its most curious laws had been observed, long before any 
analysis was attempted of the other powers of the mind, and 
have, for many ages, formed a part of the common maxims 
which are to be found in every treatise of education. Some 
important remarks on the subject may, in particular, be collected 
from the writings of the ancient rhetoricians. 

Different significations of Memory. — The word Memory is 
not employed uniformly in the same precise sense ; but it always 
expresses some modification of that faculty, which enables us to 
treasure up and preserve for future use the knowledge we 
acquire, — a faculty which is obviously the great foundation of all 



MEMORY. 255 

intellectual improvement, and without which no advantage could 
be derived from the most enlarged experience. This faculty 
implies two things, — a capacity of retaining knowledge, and a 
power of recalling it to our thoughts when we have occasion to 
apply it to use. The word Memory is sometimes employed to 
express the capacity, and sometimes the power. When we speak 
of a retentive Memory, we use it in the former sense ; when of 
a ready Memory, in the latter. 

The various particulars which compose our stock of knowl- 
edge are, from time to time, recalled to our thoughts in one of 
two ways ; sometimes they recur to us spontaneously, or at least, 
without any interference on our part ; in other cases, they are 
recalled in consequence of an effort of our will. For the former 
operation of the mind, we have no appropriated name in our 
language distinct from Memory. The latter, too, is often called 
by the same name, but is more properly distinguished by the 
word recollection. 

There are, I believe, some other acceptations besides these, in 
which the word Memory has been occasionally employed ; but 
as its ambiguities are not of such a nature as to mislead us in 
our present inquiries, I shall not dwell any longer on the illus- 
tration of distinctions, which, to the greater part of readers, 
might appear uninteresting and minute.* One distinction only 
relative to this subject occurs to me as deserving particular 
attention. 

Memory involves an idea of the past. — The operations of 



* In the French tongue, there are several words connected with this 
operation of the mind, marking nice shades of meaning, which cannot be 
expressed in our language without circumlocution. Such (according to 
Girard) are the words Me'moire and Soucenir, the former referring to the 
understanding alone, the latter, to things which also touch or affect the 
heart. This distinction was plainly in the view of Diderot, in a passage 
which it is scarcely possible to translate into English without impairing 
somewhat of the beauty of the original. " Rapportez tout au dernier mo- 
ment; & ce moment oil la memoire des faits les plus eclatants nc vaudra 
pas le souvenir d'un verre d'eau pre'sentc' par humanite a eclui qui avoit 
»oif." 



256 MEMORY. 

Memory relate either to things and their relations, or to events. 
In the former case, thoughts which have been previously in the 
mind may recur to us without suggesting the idea of the past, or 
of any modification of time whatever ; as when I repeat over a 
poem which I have got by heart, or when I think of the features 
of an absent friend. In this last instance, indeed, philosophers 
distinguish the act of the mind by the name of conception ; but 
in ordinary discourse, and frequently even in philosophical writ- 
ing, it is considered as an exertion of Memory. In these and 
similar cases, it is obvious, that the operations of this faculty do 
not necessarily involve the idea of the past. 

The case is different with respect to the Memory of events. 
When I think of these, I not only recall to the mind the former 
objects of its thoughts, but I refer the event to a particular 
point of time ; so that, of every such act of Memory, the idea 
of the past is a necessary concomitant. 

I have been led to take notice of this distinction, in order to 
obviate an objection which some of the phenomena of Memory 
seem to present, against a doctrine which I formerly stated, 
when treating of the powers of conception and imagination. 

How conception passes into, or becomes, Memory. — It is evi- 
dent that, when I think of an event, in which any object of 
sense was concerned, my recollection of the event must neces- 
sarily involve an act of conception. Thus, when I think of a 
dramatic representation which I have recently seen, my recol- 
lection of what I saw, necessarily involves a conception of the 
different actors by whom it was performed. But every act of 
recollection which relates to events, is accompanied with a belief 
of their past existence. How then are we to reconcile this con- 
clusion with the doctrine formerly maintained concerning concep- 
tion, according to which, every exertion of that power is 
accompanied with a belief that its object exists before us at the 
present moment f 

The only way that occurs to me of removing this difficulty, is 
by supposing, that the remembrance of a past event is not a 
simple act of the mind; but that the mind first forms a concep- 
tion of the eyent, and then judges from circumstances of the 



MEMORY. 257 

period of time to which it is to be referred ; a supposition which 
is by no means a gratuitous one, invented to answer a particular 
purpose ; but which, as far as I am able to judge, is agreeable 
to fact ; for if we have the power, as will not be disputed, of 
conceiving a past event without any reference to time, it follows, 
that there is nothing in the ideas or notions which Memory pre- 
sents to us, which is necessarily accompanied with a belief of 
past existence, in a way analogous to that in which our percep- 
tions are accompanied with a belief of the present existence 
of their objects ; and, therefore, that the reference of the event 
to the particular period at which it happened, is a judgment 
founded on concomitant circumstances. So long as we are 
occupied with the conception of any particular object connected 
with the event, we believe the present existence of the object ; 
but this belief, which, in most cases, is only momentary, is 
instantly corrected by habits of judging acquired by experience ; 
and as soon as the mind is disengaged from such a belief, it is 
left at liberty to refer the event to the period at which it actually 
happened. Nor will the apparent instantaneousness of such 
judgments be considered as an unsurmountable objection to 
the doctrine now advanced, by those who have reflected on 
the perception of distance obtained by sight, which, although 
it seems to be as immediate as any perception of touch, has 
been shown by philosophers to be the result of a judgment 
founded on experience and observation. The reference we 
make of past events to the particular points of time at which 
they took place, will, I am inclined to think, the more we con- 
sider the subject, be found the more strikingly analogous to the 
estimates of distance we learn to form by the eye. 

Although, however, I am, myself, satisfied with the conclusion 
to which the foregoing reasonings lead, I am far from expecting 
that the case will be the same with all my readers. Some of 
their objections, which I can easily anticipate, might, I believe, 
be obviated by a little further discussion ; but as the question is 
merely a matter of curiosity, and has no necessary connection 
with the observations I am to make in this chapter, I shall not 
prosecute the subject at present. The opinion, indeed, we form 

22* 



258 MEMORY. 

concerning it, has no reference to any of the doctrines main- 
tained in this work, excepting to a particular speculation con- 
cerning the belief accompanying conception, which I ventured 
to state in treating of that subject, and which, as it appears to 
be extremely doubtful to some whose opinions I respect, I pro- 
posed with a degree of diffidence suitable to the difficulty of such 
an inquiry. The remaining observations which I am to make 
on the power of Memory, whatever opinion may be formed of 
their importance, will furnish but little room for a diversity of 
judgment concerning their truth. 

Why we remember some things better than others. — In con- 
sidering this part of our constitution, one of the most obvious 
and striking questions that occurs, is, what the circumstances are 
which determine the Memory to retain some things in preference 
to others ? Among the subjects which successively occupy our 
thoughts, by far the greater number vanish without leaving a 
trace behind them ; while others become, as it were, a part of 
ourselves, and, by their accumulations, lay a foundation for our 
perpetual progress in knowledge. Without pretending to ex- 
haust the subject, I shall content myself at present with a par- 
tial solution of this difficulty, by illustrating the dependence of 
Memory upon two principles of our nature, with which it is 
plainly very intimately connected ; attention and the association 
of ideas. 

I endeavored in a former chapter to show, that there is a 
certain act of the mind, (distinguished, both by philosophers 
and the vulgar, by the name of attention,) without which even 
the objects of our perceptions make no impression on the Mem- 
ory. It is also matter of common remark, that the permanence 
of the impression which any thing leaves in the Memory, is 
proportioned to the degree of attention which was originally 
given to it. The observation has been so often repeated, and is 
so manifestly true, that it is unnecessary to offer any illustration 
of it.* 



* It seems to be owing to this dependence of memory on attention, that 
it is easier to get b j heart a composition after a very few readings, with 



MEMORY. 259 

Attention sometimes spontaneous, and sometimes requires effort. 
— I have only to observe further, with respect to attention, con- 
sidered in the relation in which it stands to Memory, that al- 
though it be a voluntary act, it requires experience to have it 
always under command. In the case of objects to which we 
have been taught to attend at an early period of life, or which 
are calculated to rouse the curiosity, or to affect any of our 
passions, the attention fixes itself upon them, as it were sponta- 
neously, and without any effort on our part, of which we «re 
conscious. How perfectly do we remember, and even retain, 
for a long course of years, the faces and the handwritings of 
our acquaintances, although we never took any particular pains 
to fix them in the Memory ? On the other hand, if an object 
does not interest some principle of our nature, we may examine 
it again and again, with a wish to treasure up the knowledge of 
it in the mind, without our being able to command that degree 
of attention which may lead us to recognize it the next time w r e 
see it. A person, for example, who has not been accustomed to 
attend particularly to horses or to cattle, may study for a con- 
siderable time the appearance of a horse or of a bullock, with 
out being able, a few days afterwards, to pronounce on his iden- 
tity ; while a horse-dealer or a grazier recollects many hundreds 
of that class of animals with which he is conversant, as per- 
fectly as he does the faces of his acquaintances. In order to 
account for this, I would remark, that although attention be a 
voluntary act, and although we are always able, when we choose, 
to make a momentary exertion of it ; yet, unless the object to 
which it is directed be really interesting, in some degree, to the 

an attempt to repeat it at the end of each, than after a hundred readings 
without such an effort. The effort rouses the attention from that languid 
state in which it remains, while the mind is giving a passive reception to 
foreign ideas. The fact is remarked by Lord Bacon, and is explained by 
him on the same principle to which I have referred it. 

" Quae cxpectantur et attentionem excitant, melius haerent quam quae 
praetervolant. Itaque si scriptum aliquod vicies perlegeris, non tarn facile 
illud memoriter discos, quam si illiul legos decies, tentando interim illud 
recitare, et ubi deficit memoria, inspiciendo librum." — Bacou, Nov Org. 
lib. ii. aph. 26. 



260 MEMORY. 

curiosity, the train of our ideas goes on, and we immediately 
forget our purpose. When we are employed, therefore, in 
studying such an object, it is not an exclusive and steady atten- 
tion that we give to it, but we are losing sight of it, and recur- 
ring to it every instant ; and the painful efforts of which we are 
conscious, are not, (as we are apt to suppose them to be,) 
efforts of uncommon attention, but unsuccessful attempts to 
keep the mind steady to its object, and to exclude the extrane- 
ous, ideas, which are from time to time soliciting its notice. 

If these observations be well founded, they afford an ex- 
planation of a fact which has often been remarked, that objects 
are easily remembered which affect any of the passions.* The 
passion assists the Memory, not in consequence of any immedi- 
ate connection between them, but as it presents, during the time 
it continues, a steady and exclusive object to the attention. 

The connection between Memory and the association of ideas, 
is so striking, that it has been supposed by some, that the whole 
of its phenomena might be resolved into this principle. But 
this is evidently not the case. The association of ideas connects 
our various thoughts with each other, so as to present them to 
the mind in a certain order ; but it presupposes the existence of 
these thoughts in the mind ; or, in other words, it presupposes a 
faculty of retaining the knowledge which we acquire. It involves, 
also, a power of recognizing, as former objects of attention, the 
thoughts that from time to time occur to us ; a power which is 
not implied in that law of our nature which is called the associ- 
ation of ideas. It is possible, surely, that our thoughts might 
have succeeded each other, according to the same laws as at 



* " Si quas res in vita videmus, parvas, usitatas, quotidianas, eas me- 
minisse non solemus ; propterea quod nulla nisi nova aut admirabili re 
commovetur animus. At si quid videmus aut audimus egregie turpe, aut 
honestum, inusitatum, magnum, incredibile, ridiculum, id diu meminisse 
consuevimus." [When we witness things that are small, common, and of 
daily recurrence, Ave do not usually remember them ; for the mind is not 
stirred except by something new and wonderful. But if we see or hear 
any thing remarkably base, honorable, unusual, great, incredible, or ridicu- 
lous, it generally remains long in the memory.] — Ad. Herenn, lib. 3. 



MEMORY. 261 

present, without suggesting to us at all the idea of the past ; 
and, in fact, this supposition is realized to a certain degree in 
the case of some old men, who retain pretty exactly the infor- 
mation which they receive, but are sometimes unable to recollect 
in what manner the particulars which they find connected 
together in their thoughts, at first came into the mind ; whether 
they occurred to them in a dream, or were communicated to 
them in conversation. 

On the other hand, it is evident, that without the associating 
principle, the powers of retaining our thoughts, and of recog- 
nizing them when they occur to us, would have been of little 
use ; for the most important articles of our knowledge might 
have remained latent in the mind, even when those occasions 
presented themselves to which they are immediately applicable. 
In consequence of this law of our nature, not only are all our 
various ideas made to pass, from time to time, in review before 
us, and to offer themselves to our choice as subjects of medita- 
tion, but when an occasion occurs which calls for the aid of our 
past experience, the occasion itself recalls to us all the informa- 
tion upon the subject which that experience has accumulated. 

The foregoing observations comprehend an analysis of Memory 
sufficiently accurate for my present purpose ; some other re- 
marks, tending to illustrate the same subject more completely, 
will occur in the remaining sections of this chapter. 

Memory itself is an ultimate and inexplicable fact. — It is 
hardly necessary for me to add, that when we have pro- 
ceeded so far in our inquiries concerning Memory, as to obtain 
an analysis of that power, and to ascertain the relation in which 
it stands to the other principles of our constitution, we have 
advanced as far towards an explanation of it as the nature of 
the subject permits. The various theories which have attempted 
to account for it by traces or impressions in the sensorium, are 
obviously too unphilosophical to deserve a particular refutation.* 

* The following passage from Malebranche will be a sufficient specimen 
of the common theories with respect to memory. 

" In order to give an explanation of memory, it should be called to 
mind, that all our ditferent perception* afc affixed to the changes which 



262 MEMORY. 

Such, indeed, is the poverty of language, that we cannot speak 
on the subject without employing expressions which suggest one 
theory or another ; but it is of importance for us always to recol- 
lect, that these expressions are entirely figurative, and afford no 
explanation of the phenomena to which they refer. It is partly 

happen to the fibres of the principal parts of the brain, wherein the soul 
particularly resides. 

" This supposition being laid down, the nature of the memory is ex- 
plained ; for as the branches of a tree, which have continued some time 
bent after a particular manner, preserve a readiness and facility of being 
bent afresh in the same manner ; so the fibres of the brain, having once 
received certain impressions from the current of the animal spirits, and 
from the action of the objects upon them, retain for a considerable time 
some facility of receiving the same dispositions. Now the memory consists 
only in that promptness or facility ; since a man thinks upon the same 
things, whenever the brain receives the same impressions." — Book ii. 
chap. v. 

The different changes which this power of the mind undergoes, in the 
course of our progress through life, are explained by some other writers by 
means of the following hypothesis. " The mind," we are told, " is like 
wax, which may be softened too much to retain, or too little to receive, an 
impression. In childhood, the material is too soft, and gives way to im- 
pressions, but does not retain them. In old age, it is hard, and retains the 
impressions formerly made, but does not receive any new ones. In man- 
hood, the consistence is at once proper to receive and to retain the impres- 
sions which are made upon it." I quote the last sentences on the authority 
of Dr. Ferguson, as I don't knoAv from what writer they are taken. In the 
main, the theory here described agrees with that of Aristotle. 

The habitual use we make of the art of printing and of writing, in the 
acquisition and in the preservation of our knowledge, is apt to predispose 
the understanding in favor of this last theoiy. We conceive the memory in 
particular (not unnaturally, I own, upon a superficial view of the subject) 
to be analogous to a tablet, on which certain traces are left ; by recurring to 
which, the mind can, as it were, read, without any fresh aids from without, 
the recorded results of its former experience or reflection. 

Admitting, for a moment, the existence of these impressions, the ques- 
tion still recurs, what is the nature of that thinking and percipient being 
which reads the impressions, and avails itself of their aid in the exercise 
of its various difficulties ? "Who taught the mind to interpret their import, 
and to annex to them notions as foreign to themselves, as alphabetical 
characters are to the information which they convey 1 Even upon this 
supposition, therefore, the mys^ry is not less astonishing than if a child, 



MEMORY. 268 

with a view to remind my readers of this consideration, that, 
finding it impossible to lay aside completely metaphorical or 



without any instructions, were to read a book, the first time it was put into 
his hands, with a full comprehension of the author's meaning. 

But what I wish chiefly to insist on at present, is the obviously illogical 
inference which so many ingenious men seem to have been disposed to 
draw from the supposed impressions on the material substance of the brain, 
against the immateriality of that being (that thinking and percipient 7) 
which reads and interprets these impressions. If the hypothesis which 
forms the foundation of this argument be true, all that follows from it is, 
that, in the operations of perception and of memory, a process is carried 
on by the mind in the dark recesses of the brain, analogous to what takes 
place when it reads, by the intervention of the eye, the characters of a book. 
The question (it ought always to be remembered) is not about the nature 
of the thing read, but about the nature of the reader. In the case of the 
book, no one thinks of identifying the reader's mind with the texture of the 
paper, or with the chemical composition of the ink. Why then should it 
be imagined, that any step is made towards materialism by supposing that 
an invisible book exists in the sensorium, by the interpretation of which we 
are enabled to perceive external objects ; and, by a reference to which, we 
recover, as in a tablet, the knowledge which has happened to escape from 
the memory ? 

[To the hypothesis that memory takes place through the impressions 
which are left upon the brain, Dr. Rfcid justly objects, " that there is no 
evidence nor probability that the cause assigned does exist ; that is, that 
the impression made upon the brain in perception remains after the object is 
removed." Still further ; if the impression be the cause of memory, so 
long as the cause continues, the effect ought to continue also ; that is, the 
idea should never fade or disappear from the mind, but the memory, or 
rather the perception, should be continuous. I saw a particular horse 
yesterday ; and the impression made upon my brain by that perception, 
according to this hypothesis, is the cause of my remembrance of that horse. 
Then, as the impression left upon the brain must have lasted through the 
interval from yesterday till to-day, I ought never to have forgotten the 
horse, but the idea or recollection of it should have been constantly present 
to my mind. It should have been, not memory, but continuous perception, 
though growing fainter and fainter every moment, as the impression was 
gradually effaced. But this is not the case. Some accidental circumstance 
may suddenly recall to mind a person whom I had neither seen nor thought 
of for many years. Where was the impression of his face upon my brain 
during these intervening years? If it remained there, why did I ever for* 
get him ? — why did I ever cease to see him ?] 



264 MEMORY. 

analogical words, I have studied to avoid such an uniformity in 
the employment of them, as might indicate a preference to one 
theory rather than another ; and, by doing so, have perhaps 
sometimes been led to vary the metaphor oftener and more sud- 
denly, than Avould be proper in a composition which aimed at 
any degree of elegance. This caution in the use of the common 
language concerning Memory, it seemed to me the more neces- 
sary to attend to, that the general disposition which every per- 
son feels at the commencement of his philosophical pursuits, to 
explain the phenomena of thought by the laws of matter, is, in 
the case of this particular faculty, encouraged by a variety of 
peculiar circumstances. The analogy between committing a 
thing to Memory that we wish to remember, and engraving on 
a tablet a fact that we wish to record, is so striking as to present 
itself even to the vulgar ; nor is it perhaps less natural to in- 
dulge the fancy in considering Memory as a sort of repository, 
in which we arrange and preserve for future use the materials 
of our information. The immediate dependence, too, of this 
faculty on the state of the body, which is more remarkable than 
that of any other faculty whatever, (as appears from the 
effects produced on it by old age, disease, and intoxication,) is 
apt to strike those who have not been much conversant with 
these inquiries, as bestowing some plausibility on the theory 
which attempts to explain its phenomena on mechanical prin- 
ciples. 

Effects of disease and old age on Memory. — I cannot help 
taking this opportunity of expressing a wish, that medical 
writers would be at more pains than they have been at hitherto, 
to ascertain the various effects which are produced on the Mem- 
ory by disease and old age. These effects are widely diversified 
in different cases. In some, it would seem that the Memoiy is 
impaired in consequence of a diminution of the power of atten- 
tion ; in others, that the power of recollection is disturbed in 
consequence of a derangement of that part of the constitution 
on which the association of ideas depends. The decay of Mem- 
ory, which is the common effect of age, seems to arise from the 
former of these causes. It is probable, that, as we advance in 



MEMORY. 2G-3 

years, the capacity of attention is weakened by some physical 
change in the constitution ; but it is also reasonable to think, that 
it loses its vigor partly from the effect which the decay of our 
sensibility and the extinction of our passions have, in dimin- 
ishing the interest which we feel in the common occurrences of 
life. That no derangement takes place, in ordinary cases, in 
that part of the constitution on which the association of ideas 
depends, appears from the distinct and circumstantial recollec- 
tion which old men retain of the transactions of their youth.* 
In some diseases, this part of the constitution is evidently 
affected. A stroke of the palsy has been known, while it did 
not destroy the power of speech, to render the patient incapable 
of recollecting the names of the most familiar objects. What is 
still more remarkable, the name of an object has been known to 
suggest the idea of it as formerly, although the sight of the 
object ceased to suggest the name. Something similar to this 
last fact (it may not be improper here to remark) occurs in an 
inferior degree, in the case of most old men, even when they 
do not labor under any specific disease. When the faculty of 
Memory begins to decline, the first symptom of its failure is, in 
ordinary cases, a want of recollection of words ; first, of proper 
names and dates, and afterwards, of words in general. The 
transition from the sign to the thing signified seems, in every 
case, easier than from the thing signified to the sign ; and hence 
it is, that many persons who are able to read a foreign language 

* Swift somewhere expresses his surprise, that old men should remem- 
ber their anecdotes so distinctly, and should, notwithstanding, have so 
little memory as to tell the same story twice in the course of the same con- 
versation ; and a similar remark is made by Montaigne, in one of his 
Essays. 

The fact seems to be, that all their old ideas remain in the mind, con- 
nected as formerly by the different associating principles ; but that the 
power of attention to new ideas and new occurrences is impaired. 

Instances of this are so common, that there can be no dispute about the 
fact. At the same time, I agree with Dr. Hartley in thinking, that old men 
do not always recollect the events of their youth so distinctly as we might 
at first conclude from their narratives ; and that it is rather their own harra- 
tives that they remember, than the events to which they relate 
23 



266 MEMORY. 

with ease, are perfectly unable to express themselves in that 
language in conversation, or even in writing. Of this fact, some 
explanation may be given, without having recourse to any 
physiological consideration ; for we are accustomed to pass from 
the sign to the thing signified every time we read a book, or 
listen to the conversation of another person ; whereas we pass 
from the thing signified to the sign, only when we have occasion 
to communicate our own ideas to others : And cases of this last 
sort bear (it is evident) no proportion, in point of number, to 
the former. With respect to our peculiar tendency to forget 
proper names, when the memory begins to be impaired, the fact 
seems to be owing : 1. To the firmer hold which general words 
take of the mind, in consequence of their smaller number: 
2. To the exercise which our recollection of general words is 
constantly receiving in the course of our solitary speculation ; 
for (as was formerly shown) we can carry on general reasonings 
by means of language only; whereas, when we speculate con- 
cerning individuals, we frequently fix our thoughts on the object 
itself, without thinking of the name.* 

* " Slight paralytic affections of the organs of speech sometimes occur 
without any correspondent disorder in other parts of the body. In such 
cases, the tongue appears to the patient too large for his mouth, — the 
saliva flows more copiously than usual, — and the vibratory power of the 
glottis is somewhat impaired. Hence the effort to speak succeeds the vo- 
lition of the mind slowly and imperfectly, and the words are uttered with 
faltering and hesitation. These are facts of common notoriety ; but I have 
never seen it remarked, that in this local palsy, the pronunciation of 
proper names is attended with peculiar difficulty, and that the recollection 
of them becomes either very obscure, or entirely obliterated ; whilst that of 
persons, places, things, and even of abstract ideas, remains unchanged. 
Such a partial defect of memory, of which experience has furnished me 
with several examples, confirms the theory of association, and at the same 
time admits of an easy solution by it. For as words are arbitrary marks, 
and owe their connection with what they import to established usage, the 
strength of this connection will be exactly proportioned to the frequency 
of their recurrence ; and this recurrence must be much more frequent with 
generic than with specific terms. Now, pioper names are of the lattei 
class ; and the idea of a person or place may remain vivid in the mind, 
with >ut the least signature of the appellative which distinguishes each of 



MEMORY 267 

I shall only add further on this head, that, as far as my own 
personal observations have extended, the forgetfulness of proper 
names incident to old men, is chiefly observable in men of 
science, or in those who are habitually occupied with important 
affairs ; and this, I apprehend, is what might reasonably have 
been expected a priori; partly from their habits of general 
thought, and partly from their want of constant practice in that 
trivial conversation which is every moment recalling particulars 
to the mind. 

In endeavoring thus to account, from the general laws of our 
constitution, for some of the phenomena which are commonly 
referred immediately to physical changes in the brain, I would 
not be understood to deny, that age often affects the memory 
through the medium of the body. This, indeed, is one of those 
melancholy truths to which every day's experience bears wit- 
ness. It is beautifully and pathetically stated by Locke in the 
following words : " The pictures drawn in our minds are laid in 
fading colors, and, if not sometimes refreshed, vanish and dis- 
appear. Thus the ideas, as well as children, of our youth, often 
die before us ; and our minds represent to us those tombs to 
which we are approaching ; where, though the brass and marblt 
remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imager) 
moulders away." * 

them. It is certain, also, that we often think in words ; and there is prob- 
ably, at such times, some slight impulse on the organs of speech, analogous 
to what is pei'ceived when a musical note or tune is called to mind. But a 
lesion of the power of utterance may break a link in the chain of associ- 
ation, and thus add to the partial defect of memory now under consider 
ation." — (Percival's Works, Vol. II. p. 73.) 

* In ordinary cases, I confess, I strongly suspect that the physical effects 
of old age on this part of our constitution are not so great as is commonly 
imagined ; and that much of what is generally imputed to advanced years, 
may be fairly ascribed to a disuse of the faculty, occasioned by a premature 
retreat from the business of the world. One thing is certain (as Cicero 
has remarked) that those old men who have force of mind to keep up their 
habits of activity to the last, are, in most cases, distinguished by a strength 
of memory unusual at their years ; to which I may add, that tins faculty, 
after a temporary decline, frequently recovers a great deal of its former vigor. 

" I never yet heard of any old man," says Cicero, in the character of 



268 MEMORY. 

The decay of Memory may be averted or postponed by our own 
efforts. — In so far as this decay of Memory which old age 
brings along with it, is a necessary consequence of a physical 
change in the constitution, or a necessary consequence of a 
diminution of sensibility, it is the part of a wise man to submit 
cheerfully to the lot of his nature. But it is not unreasonable 
to think, that something may be done by our own efforts, to 
obviate the inconveniences which commonly result from it. If 
individuals, who, in the early part of life, have weak memories, 
are sometimes able to remedy this defect, by a greater attention 
to arrangement in their transactions, and to classification among 
their ideas, than is necessary to the bulk of mankind, might it 
not be possible, in the same way, to ward off, at least to a 
certain degree, the encroachments which time makes on this 
faculty ? The few old men who continue in the active scenes 
of life to the last moment, it has been often remarked, complain, 
in general, much less of a want of recollection than their con- 
temporaries. This is undoubtedly owing, partly, to the effect 
which the pursuits of business must necessarily have, in keep- 
ing alive the power of attention. But it is probably owing also 
to new habits of arrangement, which the mind gradually and 
insensibly forms, from the experience of its growing infirmities. 
The apparent revival of Memory in old men, after a temporary 
decline, which is a case that happens not unfrequently, seems to 
favor this supposition. 



Cato, " whose memory was so weakened by time, as to forget where he had 
concealed his treasure. The aged seem, indeed, to be at no loss in re 
membering whatever is the principal object of their attention ; and few 
there are at that period of life who cannot tell what recognizances they 
have entered into, or with whom they have had any pecuniary transac- 
tions. Innumerable instances of a strong memory in advanced years 
might be produced from among our celebrated lawyers, pontiffs, augurs, 
and philosophers ; for the faculties of the mind will preserve their powers 
; n old age, unless they are suffered to lose their energy, and become languid 
tor want of due cultivation." 

" The mind and body equally thrive by a suitable exertion of their 

powers, with this difference, however, that bodily exercise ends in fatigue, 
whereas the mind is never wearied in its activity. When Caecilius there- 



MEMORY. 269 

One old man, I have, myself, had the good fortune to know, 
who, after a long, an active, and an honorable life, having begun 
to feel some of the usual effects of advanced years, has been 
able to find resources in his own sagacity, against most of the 
inconveniences with which they are commonly attended ; and 
who, by watching his gradual decline with the cool eye of an 
indifferent observer, and employing his ingenuity to retard its 
progress, has converted even the infirmities of age into a source 
of philosophical amusement. 

II. Of the varieties of Memory in different individuals. — It 
is generally supposed, that, of all our faculties, Memory is that 
which nature has bestowed in the most unequal degrees on dif- 
ferent individuals ; and it is far from being impossible, that this 
opinion may be well founded. If, however, we consider, that 
there is scarcely any man who has not Memory sufficient to 
learn the use of language, and to learn to recognize, at the first 
glance, the appearances of an infinite number of familiar objects ; 
besides acquiring such an acquaintance with the* laws of nature, 
and the ordinary course of human affairs, as is necessary for 
directing his conduct in life ; we shall be satisfied that the origi- 
nal disparities among men, in this respect, are by no means so 
immense as they seem to be at first view ; and that much is to 
be ascribed to different habits of attention, and to a difference 



fore represents certain veterans as fit subjects for the Comic Muse, he al- 
ludes only to those weak and credulous dotards, whose infirmities of mind 
are not so much the natural effects of their years, as the consequence of 
suffering their faculties to lie dormant and unexerted in a slothful and 
spiritless inactivity." — Melmoth's Translation of Cicero on Old Age. 

Among the practices to which Cato had recourse for exercising his 
memory, he mentions his observance of the Pythagorean rule, in recalling 
every night, all that he had said, or done, or heard the preceding day : — 
And, perhaps, few rules could be prescribed of greater efficacy for fixing 
in the mind the various ideas which pass under its review, or for giving it 
a ready and practical command of them. Indeed, this habit of frequently 
reviewing the information we possess, either in our solitary meditations, or 
(which is still better) in our conversations with others, is the most effectual 
of all the helps to memory that can possibly be suggested. But these 
remarks properly belong to another branch of our subject. 
* 23* 



270 • MEMORY. 

of selection among the various objects and events presented to 
their curiosity. 

It is worthy of remark, also, that those individuals who pos- 
sess unusual powers of Memory with respect to any one class of 
objects, are commonly as remarkably deficient in some of the 
other applications of that faculty. I knew a person who, though 
completely ignorant of Latin, was able to repeat over thirty or 
forty lines of Virgil, after having heard them once read to 
him, — not indeed with perfect exactness, but with such a degree 
of resemblance as (all circumstances considered) was truly 
astonishing ; yet this person (who was in the condition of a 
servant) was singularly deficient in Memory in all cases in 
which that faculty is of real practical utility. He was noted in 
every family in which he had been employed for habits of for- 
getfulness; and could scarcely deliver an ordinary message 
without committing some blunder. 

A similar observation, I can almost venture to say, will be 
found to apply to by far the greater number of those in whom 
this faculty seems to exhibit a preternatural or anomalous degree 
of force. The varieties of memory are indeed wonderful ; but 
they ought not to be confounded with inequalities of memory. 
One man is distinguished by a power of recollecting names, and 
dates, and genealogies ; a second, by the multiplicity of specula- 
tions, and of general conclusions, treasured up in his intellect ; 
a third, by the facility with which words and combinations of 
words (the ipsissima verba of a speaker or of an author) seem 
to lay hold of his mind ; a fourth, by the quickness with which 
he seizes and appropriates the sense and meaning of an author, 
while the phraseology and style seem altogether to escape his 
notice ; a fifth, by his Memory for poetry ; a sixth, by his Memory 
for music ; a seventh, by his Memory for architecture, statuary, 
and painting, and all the other objects of taste which are addressed 
to the eye. All these different powers seem miraculous to those 
who do not possess them ; and, as they are apt to be supposed, 
by superficial observers, to be commonly united in the same 
individuals, they contribute much to encourage those exaggerated 
estimates concerning the original inequalities among men ui 



MEMORY. 271 

respect to this faculty, which I am now endeavoring to reduce 
to their just standard. 

The characteristics of a good Memory. — As the great purpose 
to which this faculty is subservient, is to enable us to collect, and 
to retain, for the future regulation of our conduct, the results of 
our past experience ; it is evident that the degree of perfection 
which it attains in the case of different persons, must vary, 
first, with the facility of making the original acquisition; 
secondly, with the permanence of the acquisition ; and thirdly, 
with the quickness or readiness with which the individual is 
able, on particular occasions, to apply it to use. The qualities 
therefore, of a good Memory are, in the first place, to be sus- 
ceptible ; secondly, to be retentive ; and thirdly, to be ready. 

It is but rarely that these three qualities are united in the 
same person. We often, indeed, meet with a Memory which is 
at once susceptible and ready ; but I doubt much, if such memo- 
ries be commonly very retentive. For the same set of habits 
which are favorable to the two first qualities, are adverse to the 
third. Those individuals, for example, who, with a view to 
conversation, make a constant business of informing themselves 
with respect to the popular topics of the day, or of turning 
over the ephemeral publications subservient to the amusement 
or to the politics of the times, are naturally led to cultivate a 
susceptibility and readiness of memory, but have no inducement 
to aim at that permanent retention of selected ideas, which enables 
the scientific student to combine the most remote materials, and 
to concentrate, at will, on a particular object, all the scattered 
lights of his experience, and of his reflections. Such men (as 
far as my observation has reached) seldom possess a familiar or 
correct acquaintance even with those classical remains of our 
own earlier writers, which have ceased to furnish topics of dis- 
course to the circles of fashion. A stream of novelties is per- 
petually passing through their minds ; and the faint impressions 
which it leaves, soon vanish to make way for others, — like the 
traces which the ebbing tide leaves upon the sand. Nor is this 
all. In proportion as the associating principles which lay the 
foundation of susceptibility and readiness predominate in the 



272 MEMORY. 

Memory, those which form the basis of our more solid and last- 
ing acquisitions may be expected to be weakened, as a natural 
consequence of the general laws of our intellectual frame. This 
last observation it will be necessary to illustrate more particu- 
larly. 

Various modes of association in different minds. — I have 
already remarked, in treating of a different subject, that the 
bulk of mankind, being but little accustomed to reflect and to 
generalize, associate their ideas chiefly according to their more 
obvious relations; those, for example, of resemblance and of 
analogy ; and above all, according to the casual relations arising 
from contiguity in time and place ; whereas, in the mind of a 
philosopher, ideas are commonly associated according to those 
relations which are brought to light in consequence of particular 
efforts of attention ; such as the relations of cause and effect, or 
of premises and conclusion. This difference in the modes of 
association of these two classes of men, is the foundation of 
some very striking diversities between them in respect of intel- 
lectual character. 

Differences of Memory between philosophers and the vulgar. — 
In the first place, in consequence of the nature of the relations 
which connect ideas together in the mind of the philosopher, it 
must necessarily happen, that when he has occasion to apply to 
use his acquired knowledge, time and reflection will be requisite 
to enable him to recollect it. In the case of those, on the other 
hand, who have not been accustomed to scientific pursuits, as 
their ideas are connected together according to the most obvious 
relations, when any one idea of a class is presented to the mind, 
it is immediately followed by the others, which succeed each 
other spontaneously, according to the laws of association. In 
managing, therefore, the little details of some subaltern employ- 
ment, in which all that is required is knowledge of forms, and 
a disposition to observe them, the want of a systematical genius 
is an important advantage ; because this want renders the mind 
peculiarly susceptible of habits, and allows the train of its ideas 
to accommodate itself perfectly to the daily and hourly oc- 
currences of its situation. But if, in this respect, men of na 



MEMORY. 273 

general principles have an advantage over the philosopher, they 
fall greatly below him in another point of view ; inasmuch as 
all the information which they possess, must necessarily be 
limited by their own proper experience ; whereas the philoso- 
pher, who is accustomed to refer every thing to general princi- 
ples, is not only enabled, by means of these, to arrange the facts 
which experience has taught him, but by reasoning from his 
principles synthetically, has it often in his power to determine 
facts a priori, which he has no opportunity of ascertaining by 
observation. 

It follows further, from the foregoing principles, that the intel- 
lectual defects of the philosopher, are of a much more corrigible 
nature, than those of the mere man of detail. If the former is 
thrown by accident into a scene of business, more time will per- 
haps be necessary to qualify him for it, than would be requisite 
for the generality of mankind ; but time and experience will 
infallibly, sooner or later, familiarize his mind completely with 
his situation. A capacity for system and for philosophical 
arrangement, unless it has been carefully cultivated in early life, 
is an acquisition which can scarcely be made afterwards ; and, 
therefore, the defects which I already mentioned, as connected 
with early and constant habits of business, adopted from imita- 
tion, and undirected by theory, may, when once these habits 
are confirmed, be pronounced to be incurable. 

How to retain knowledge permanently. — I am also inclined 
to believe, both from a theoretical view of the subject, and from 
my own observations, as far as they have reached, that if we 
wish to fix the particulars of our knowledge very permanently 
in the Memory, the most effectual way of doing it, is to refei 
them to general principles. Ideas which are connected together 
merely by casual relations, present themselves with readiness 
to the mind, so long as we are forced by the habits of our 
situation to apply them daily to use ; but when a change of cir- 
cumstances lead us to vary the objects of our attention, we find 
our old ideas gradually to escape from the recollection ; and if 
it should happen that they escape from it altogether, the only 
method of recovering them, is by renewing those studies by 



274 MEMORY. 

which they were at first acquired. The case is very different 
with a man whose ideas, presented to him at first by accident, 
have been afterwards philosophically arranged and referred to 
general principles. When he wishes to recollect them, some 
time and reflection will, frequently, be necessary to enable him 
to do so ; but the information which he has once completely 
acquired, continues, in general, to be an acquisition for life ; or 
if, accidentally, any article of it should be lost, it may often be 
recovered by a process of reasoning. 

A language caught by the ear is generally spoken with more 
of the ease of a native than if it had been learned by rule ; but, 
in the course of a few years, it is often as completely obliterated 
from the memory as if it had never been acquired. It is only 
by a complete possession of the principles of a language, that 
we can hope to make it an acquisition for life. We may see 
this daily illustrated, in the uncertain hold which girls commonly 
retain of the French acquired at boarding-schools, when com- 
pared with the permanent acquaintance with Latin which boys 
receive from a regular classical education. Few boys, however 
well educated, read and speak Latin with the same facility and 
fluency with which we daily see young ladies read and speak 
French ; yet how seldom do they ever lose afterwards a com- 
petent knowledge of the Latin tongue ! 

A philosophical arrangement of our ideas is attended with 
another very important advantage. In a mind where the pre- 
vailing principles of association are founded on casual relations 
among the various objects of its knowledge, the thoughts must 
necessarily succeed each other in a very irregular and disorderly 
manner, and the occasions on which they present themselves 
will be determined merely by accident. They will often occur 
when they cannot be employed to any purpose, and will remain 
concealed from our view when the recollection of them might 
be useful. They cannot, therefore, be considered as under our 
own proper command. But in the case of a philosopher, how 
slow soever he may be in the recollection of his ideas, he knows 
always where he is to search for them, so as to bring them all 
to bear on their proper object. When he wishes to avail him- 



MEMORY. 275 

self of his past experience, or of his former conclusions, the 
occasion itself summons up every thought in his mind which the 
occasion requires. Or if he is called upon to exert his powers 
of invention and of discovery, the materials of both are always 
at hand, and are presented to his view with such a degree of 
connection and arrangement as may enable him to trace with 
ease their various relations. How much invention depends upon 
a patient and attentive examination of our ideas in order to dis- 
cover the less obvious relations which subsist among them, I 
had occasion to show at some length in a former chapter.* 

Why philosophers do not excel in conversation. — The remarks 
which have been now made are sufficient to illustrate the ad- 
vantages which the philosopher derives in the pursuits of science 
from that sort of systematical Memory which his habits of ar- 
rangement give him. It may, however, be doubted whether 
such habits be equally favorable to a talent for agreeable con- 
versation, at least for that lively, varied conversation, which 
forms the principal charm of a promiscuous society. The con- 
versation which pleases generally, must unite the recommenda- 
tions of quickness, of ease, and of variety ; and in all these three 
respects, that of the philosopher is apt to be deficient. It is de- 
ficient in quickness, because his ideas are connected by relations 
which occur only to an attentive and collected mind. It is de- 
ficient in ease, because these relations are not the casual and 
obvious ones by which ideas are associated in ordinary memories, 
but the slow discoveries of patient, and often painful, exertion. 
As the ideas, too, which he associates together, are commonly of 
the same class, or at least are referred to the same general prin- 
ciples, he is in danger of becoming tedious, by indulging himself 



* The practice which literary men in general have of committing to 
writing the knowledge they acquire, together with the ready access which 
all ranks have now to the use of books, has a tendency to weaken the 
faculty of memory, by superseding the necessity of its more extraordinary 
exertions. It was on this principle that the Druids (as we are informed by 
Caesar in his Commentaries), although they knew the Greek letters, ab- 
stained from the use of writing in recording their theological and philo- 
sophical doctrines. 



276 MEMORY. 

in long and systematical discourses ; while another, possessed of 
the most inferior accomplishments, by laying his mind completely 
open to impressions from without, and by accommodating con- 
tinually the course of his own ideas, not only to the ideas which 
are stated by his companions, but to every trifling and un- 
expected accident that may occur to give them a new direction, 
is the life and soul of every society into which he enters. Even 
the anecdotes which the philosopher has collected, however 
agreeable they may be in themselves, are seldom introduced by 
him into conversation with that unstudied but happy propriety 
which we admire in men of the world, whose facts are not 
referred to general principles, but are suggested to their recol- 
lection by the familiar topics and occurrences of ordinary life. 
Nor is it the imputation of tediousness merely, to which the 
systematical thinker must submit from common observers. It 
is but rarely possible to explain completely, in a promiscuous 
society, all the various parts of the most simple theory ; and, as 
nothing appears weaker or more absurd than a theory which is 
partially stated, it frequently happens that men of ingenuity, by 
attempting it, sink, in the vulgar apprehension, below the level 
of ordinary understandings. " Theoriarum vires," says Lord 
Bacon, " in apta et se mutuo sustinente partium harmonia et 
quadam in orbem demonstratione consistunt, ideoque per partes 
traditae infirmas sunt." [The excellence of theory lies in the 
fitness and harmony of the parts mutually sustaining each other ; 
so that a theory, enunciated piecemeal, is comparatively weak.] 
Peculiarities of casual Memory. — Before leaving the subject 
of easual Memory, it may not be improper to add, that how 
much soever it may disqualify for systematical speculation, 
there is a species of loose and rambling composition to which it 
is peculiarly favorable. With such performances it is often 
pleasant to unbend the mind in solitude, when we are more in 
the humor for conversation than for connected thinking. 
Montaigne is unquestionably at the head of this class of 
authors. " What, indeed, are his essays," to adopt his own ac- 
count of them, " but grotesque pieces of patchwork, put together 
without any certain figure, or any order, connection, or pro- 
portion, but what is accidental ? " (Li v. i. chap. 27.) 



MEMORY. 277 

It is, however, curious, that in consequence of the predomi- 
nance in his mind of this species of Memory above every other, 
he is forced to acknowledge his total want of that command 
over his ideas which can only be founded on habits of system- 
atical arrangement. As the passage is extremely character- 
istical of the author, and affords a striking confirmation of some 
of the preceding observations, I shall give it in his own words. 
" Je ne me tiens pas bien en ma possession et disposition : le 
hazard y a plus de droit que moy : l'occasion, la compagnie, le 
branle meme de ma voix tire plus de mon esprit, que je n'y 
trouve lorsque je sonde et employe a part moy. Ceci m'advient 
aussi, que je ne me trouve pas ou je me cherche ; et me trouve 
plus par rencontre, que par l'inquisition de mon jugement."* 

The differences which I have now pointed out between philo- 
sophical and casual Memory, constitute the most remarkable of 
all the varieties which the minds of different individuals, con- 
sidered in respect to this faculty, present to our observation. 
But there are other varieties of a less striking nature, the con- 
sideration of which may also suggest some useful reflections. 

Sights remembered more easily than sounds. — It was before 
remarked, that our ideas are frequently associated in consequence 
of the associations which take place among their arbitrary signs. 
Indeed, in the case of all our general speculations, it is difficult 
to see in what other way our thoughts can be associated ; for I 
before endeavored to show, that, without the use of signs of one 
kind or another, it would be impossible for us to make classes, 
or genera, objects of our attention. 

All the signs by which our thoughts are expressed are ad- . 
dressed either to the eye or to the ear ; and the impressions 

* [Montaigne's language is so exquisitely idiomatic, that a literal version 
gives hardly a glimpse of his meaning. The following is a mere para- 
phrase of the passage in the text. 

" I do not have full possession and command of my own mind ; chance 
has more power over it than I have ; occasion, company, even the sound 
of my own voice, draws more out of my understanding than lean, when I 
prohe and try it in solitude. This also happens to me, that I cannot find 
ray ideas where I look for them, but rather stumble upon them unawares/'l 

24 



278 MEMORY. 

made on these organs at the time when we first receive an idea, 
contribute to give us a firmer hold of it. Visible objects (as I 
observed in the chapter on conception) are remembered more 
easily than those of any of our other senses ; and hence it is, 
that the bulk of mankind are more aided in their recollection by 
the impressions made on the eye than by those on the ear. Every 
person must have remarked, in studying the elements of geom- 
etry, how much his recollection of the theorems was aided by 
the diagrams which are connected with them ; and I have little 
doubt, that the difficulty which students commonly find to re- 
member the propositions of the fifth book of Euclid, arises 
chiefly from this, that the magnitudes to which they relate, are 
represented by straight lines, which do not make so strong an 
impression on the memory, as the figures which illustrate the 
propositions in the other five books. 

This advantage, which the objects of sight naturally have 
over those of hearing, in the distinctness and the permanence of 
the impressions which they make on the Memory, continues, 
and even increases, through life, in the case of the bulk of man- 
kind ; because their minds, being but little addicted to general 
and abstract disquisitions, are habitually occupied, either with 
the immediate perception of such objects, or with speculations 
in which the conception of them is more or less involved ; 
which speculations, so far as they relate to individual things 
and individual events, may be carried on with little or no assist- 
ance from language. 

The case is difFerent with the philosopher, whose habits of 
abstraction and generalization lay him continually under a 
necessity of employing words as an instrument of thought. 
Such habits, cooperating with that inattention which he is apt 
to contract to things external, must have an obvious tendency 
to weaken the original powers of recollection and conception 
with respect to visible objects ; and at the same time, to 
strengthen the power of retaining propositions and reasonings 
expressed in language. The common system of education, too, 
by exercising the Memory so much in the acquisition of gram- 
mar rules, and of passages from the ancient authors, contributes 



MEMORY. 279 

greatly, in the case of men of letters, to cultivate a capacity 
for retaining words. 

How verbal Memory may be cultivated. — It is surprising of 
what a degree of culture our power of retaining a succession, 
even of insignificant sounds, is susceptible. Instances some- 
times occur, of men who are easily able to commit to Memory a 
long poem, composed in a language of which they are wholly 
ignorant; and I have myself known more than one instance of 
an individual, who, after having forgotten completely the classical 
studies of his childhood, was yet able to repeat with fluency 
long passages from Homer and Virgil, without annexing an 
idea to the words that he uttered. 

This susceptibility of Memory with respect to words, is pos- 
sessed by all men in a very remarkable degree in their early 
years, and is, indeed, necessary to enable them to acquire the 
use of language ; but unless it be carefully cultivated after- 
wards by constant exercise, it gradually decays as we advance 
to maturity. The plan of education which is followed in this 
country, however imperfect in many respects, falls in happily 
with this arrangement of nature, and stores the mind richly, 
even in infancy, with intellectual treasures, which are to remain 
with it through life. The rules of grammar, which comprehend 
systems, more or less perfect, of the principles of the dead 
languages, take a permanent hold of the Memory, when the 
understanding is yet unable to comprehend their import ; and 
the classical remains of antiquity, which, at the time we acquire 
them, do little more than furnish a gratification to the ear, sup- 
ply us with inexhaustible sources of the most refined enjoyment ; 
and, as our various powers gradually unfold themselves, are 
poured forth, without effort, from the Memory, to delight the 
imagination, and to improve the heart. It cannot be doubted 
that a great variety of other articles of useful knowledge, par- 
ticularly with respect to geographical and chronological details, 
might be communicated with advantage to children in the form 
of memorial lines. It is only in childhood that such details 
can be learned with facility ; and if they were once acquired 
and rendered perfectly familiar to the mind, our riper yeari 



280 MEMORY. 

would be spared much of that painful and uninteresting labor, 
which is perpetually distracting our intellectual powers from 
those more important exertions for which, in their mature state, 
they seem to be destined. 

This tendency of literary habits in general, and more par- 
ticularly of philosophical pursuits, to exercise the thoughts 
about words, can scarcely fail to have some effect in weakening 
the powers of recollection and conception with respect to sensi- 
ble objects ; and, in fact, I believe it will be found, that whatever 
advantage the philosopher may possess over men of little edu- 
cation, in stating general propositions and general reasonings, 
he is commonly inferior to them in point of minuteness and 
accuracy, when he attempts to describe any object which he has 
seen, or any event which he has witnessed; supposing the 
curiosity of both, in such cases, to be interested in an equal 
degree. I acknowledge, indeed, that the undivided attention 
which men unaccustomed to reflection are able to give to the 
objects of their perceptions, is, in part, the cause of the liveli- 
ness and correctness of their conceptions. 

Varieties of Memory in respect to technical or general descrip 
tion. — With this diversity in the intellectual habits of culti- 
vated and of uncultivated minds, there is another variety of 
Memory which seems to have some connection. In recognizing 
visible objects, the Memory of one man proceeds on the general 
appearance ; that of another attaches itself to some minute and 
distinguishing marks. A peasant knows the various kinds of 
trees from their general habits ; a botanist, from those charac- 
teristical circumstances on which his classification proceeds. 
The last kind of Memory is, I think, most common among 
literary men, and arises from their habit of recollecting by 
means of words. It is evidently much easier to express by 
a description a number of botanical marks, than the general 
habit of a tree ; and the same remark is applicable to other 
cases of a similar nature. But to whatever cause we ascribe 
it, there can be no doubt of the fact, that many individuals are 
to be found, and chiefly among men of letters, who, although 
they have no memory for the general appearances of objects, 



MEMORY. 281 

are yet able to retain with correctness an immense number of 
technical discriminations. 

Each of these kinds of Memory has its peculiar advantages 
and inconveniences, which the dread of being tedious induces 
me to leave to the investigation of my readers. 

Astonishing feats of Memory. — Among the extraordinary 
exertions of Memory recorded in history, it is worthy of ob- 
servation, that many of them (more especially of those which 
are handed down to us from ancient times) relate to acquisitions 
of the most trifling nature ; or at least, to acquisitions which, in 
the present age. would be understood to reflect but little credit 
on the capacity of those who should consider the possession of 
them as a subject of vanity. In judging, however, of such par- 
ticulars, when they occur in the lives of eminent men, due 
allowances ought always to be made for the essential differences 
between the political institutions of* the old world and those of 
modern Europe. Thus, when we are told of Themistocles, that 
he could call by their names all the citizens of Athens (whose 
number was 20,000) ; and of Cyrus, that he knew the name of 
every soldier in his army, it ought to be recollected, that con- 
temptible as these acquisitions might now appear in men equally 
elevated by their rank, they were probably not altogether use- 
less to the general of an ancient army, or to the chief of an 
ancient republic. The different state of manners prior to the 
invention of printing, and, in particular, the state of manners in 
ancient Greece and Rome, rendered the cultivation of Memory 
an object of far greater importance to those who were destined 
for public life, than it is under any of our modern governments ; 
and, accordingly, extraordinary endowments of this sort form a 
far more prominent feature in the characters of their illustrious 
writers and statesmen than they do in modern biography. 
Examples of this must immediately crowd on the recollectioi. 
of every person at all conversant with the classics. 

The facts with respect to Memory, which I have chiefly in 
my eye at present, may be divided into two classes, according as 
they relate to occasional exertions of Memory on particular 
subjects, or to the general mass of acquired information treas- 

24* 



282 MEMORY. 

ured up in the mind. Of the first kind are the intellectual 
feats ascribed to Cineas, and to Hortensius. The former (we 
are told) when he came to Rome as ambassador from King 
Pyrrhus, saluted, on the day after his arrival, all the senators 
and persons of the equestrian order by their names ; the latter, 
after sitting a whole day at a public sale, gave an account from 
Memory in the evening of all the things sold, with the prices and 
the names of the purchasers ; which account was found on 
examination to agree in every particular with what had been 
taken in writing by a notary. Nor will these anecdotes appear 
incredible, when compared with what Muretus himself saw at 
Padua, of a young Corsican, who, without stop or hesitation, 
recited thirty-six thousand names in the same order in which 
he had heard them, and afterwards, beginning at the last, pro- 
ceeded, in a contrary order, to the first. 

To the same class of facts belong (although they indicate 
also the strength of still higher faculties) those efforts which 
some individuals are able to make, by mere force of attention 
and Memory, in the way of arithmetical computation. We are 
told by the celebrated Dr. Wallis of Oxford, that " he himself 
could, in the dark, perform arithmetical operations, as multipli- 
cation, division, and extraction of roots, to forty decimal places , 
particularly, that, in February, 1671, he proposed to himself, by 
night in bed, (at the request of a foreigner,) a number of fifty- 
three places, and found its square root to twenty-seven places, 
and that, without ever writing down the number, he dictated the 
result from memory twenty days afterwards." None of the 
facts, with respect to memory, which I have met with in ancient 
authors, conveys to me so high an idea of the wonders which 
may be effected by a patient and steady concentration of our 
mental powers. 

Great Memories of philosophers. — These facts, however, which 
relate to occasional exertions of Memory on particular subjects, do 
not lead to conclusions of so great practical utility, nor are they 
perhaps, when duly weighed, so astonishing in themselves, as 
those which illustrate the comprehensiveness and retentiveness of 
which this faculty has l^een sometimes found susceptible, with 



MEMORY. 283 

respect to the general stock of human knowledge. A memorable, 
or rather an extreme, case of this sort is said to have occurred 
in " that prodigy of parts, Mr. Pascal," of whom Mr. Locke 
tells us, " it was reported, that, till the decay of his health had 
impaired his mind, he forgot nothing of what he had done, read, 
or thought, in any part of his rational age." A statement to 
which, (making every allowance for the usual exaggerations of 
testimony,) I do not know that any thing exactly parallel can 
be produced in the history of any other individual equally dis- 
tinguished by all the highest gifts of the understanding. 

The learned Menage, whom Bayle calls the Varro of the 
seventeenth century, deserves also to be mentioned here, on ac- 
count of the extraordinary strength and extent of his memory ; 
but still more, on account of the singular degree in which he 
appears to have recovered that faculty, after it had been greatly 
impaired and almost destroyed by the infirmities of old age. 
Few physiological facts, relating to the mind, are so well attested 
as this, Menage having himself commemorated his own very 
interesting history in Latin verses not inferior to any of his 
juvenile productions ; and, making due abatements for some 
slight poetical licenses, the circumstances which he records can- 
not have differed widely from the truth. 

Another instance of the same sort of memory, though in a 
very inferior man, occurred in France, about a hundred years 
ago, in the Abbe de Longuerue, whose erudition (to borrow an 
expression which D'Alembert applies to it) was not only pro- 
digious, but terrible. His extraordinary powers displayed them- 
selves even in his childhood, to such a degree, that Louis XIV., 
when passing through Charleville, stopped to see him as a curi- 
osity. Greek and even Hebrew (we are told) were as familiar 
to him as his native tongue ; and on questions of literature, 
Paris consulted him as an oracle. His mind was so well fur- 
nished, not only with historical facts, but with the minutiae of 
chronology and topography, that, upon hearing a person remark 
in conversation, that it would be a difficult task to write a good 
historical description of France, he asserted that he could do it 
from Memory, without consulting any books. All he asked was 



284. MEMORY. 

to have some good maps of France laid before him.* These 
recalled to him the history of each province, of all the fiefs of 
the crown of each city, and even of each distinguished noble- 
man's seat in the kingdom. He wrote his folio History in a 
year, which, notwithstanding some very gross errors, is allowed 
to be correct, not only in its general outlines, but in by far the 
greater part of its trifling details. 

Education to be conformed to the peculiarities of Memory. — 
With respect to this extraordinary person, Miss Edgeworth 
quotes from the Marquis* d'Argenson an anecdote, of which some 
use may, I think, be made by those who are employed in the 
education of children. When the Marquis asked him how he 
managed to arrange and retain in his head every thing that 
entered it, he answered, by observing in general terms, " That 
the elements of every science must be learned whilst we are 
very young ; not only the first principles of every language, but 
the A, JB, C, of every Tcind of knowledge. This," he adds, " is 
not difficult in youth, especially as it is not necessary to pene- 
trate far. Simple notions are sufficient ; when these are once 
acquired, every thing we read afterwards finds its proper place." 

This remark appears to me to be equally just and important ; 
and I am disposed to lay the greater stress upon it, as, in the 
person to whom it is ascribed, it must be considered merely as 



* This circumstance deserves attention, as it shows what reliance he 
placed on visible objects and local associations, as adminicles to his powers of 
recollection. He availed himself, in fact, of the same general principle 
which suggested the topical Memory of the ancient rhetoricians ; and of 
which the efficacy is abundantly confirmed by our own daily experience. 
Whoever has paid any attention to the education of young persons, must 
be satisfied that the only effectual expedient for fixing historical knowledge 
in their minds, is to unite the studies of history and of geography together, 
by accustoming them to refer every occurrence to the spot where it took 
place, and to follow with the eye, upon an accurate map, every change of 
scene in the narrative. The greater part of artificial devices, which have 
been thought of for the same purpose, are mere trick and quackery. They 
may, perhaps, be occasionally subservient to an ostentatious display, but, 
on the whole, they can scarcely fail to do more harm than good to the 
v iderstanding. 



MEMORY. 285 

an experimental result drawn from the history of his own mind, 
and not as an inference from any theoretical principles concern- 
ing the nature and laws of Memory. It contains, I suspect, a 
great secret of that species of education which is commonly 
given to people of very high rank ; to whom a power of plausi- 
ble and imposing discourse is too frequently conceived to be an 
object of greater value than the possession of just and enlight- 
ened opinions. In the education, however, of all without ex- 
ception, it is susceptible, under proper management, of the most 
important practical application, not only in facilitating the 
future acquisition of ornamental knowledge, but in laying an 
early foundation for that most valuable sort of Memory which 
spontaneously and insensibly classifies, (or, as the Abbe de 
Longuerue expressed it, puts in its proper place,) every particu- 
lar fact at the moment when it is first presented to the mind. 
This plan, indeed, seems manifestly to be pointed out to us by 
nature herself, inasmuch as she has rendered the impressions of 
early youth incomparably more permanent than those of our 
more advanced years ; and by doing so, has furnished the means 
to a skilful instructor, of extending the advantage of that 
precious season over the whole of life. 

Memory as a measure of intellectual capacity in general. — 
From these details, (and it would be very easy to add to their 
number,) it sufficiently appears, that extraordinary powers of 
Memory do not always indicate a corresponding measure of in- 
tellectual capacity in general. At the same time, I can by no 
means subscribe to the prevailing opinion, that extraordinary 
powers of Memory are incompatible either with judgment or 
with genius. On the contrary, I can scarcely recollect (as I 
have elsewhere observed) any one person very eminently dis- 
tinguished by the latter qualities, who has not also possessed a 
more than common share of the former. And, indeed, if we 
only consider for a moment how intimately this faculty is con- 
nected with every species of mental improvement, it must ap- 
pear perfectly manifest, that, however numerous the instances 
may be in which great powers of Memory are united with a 
deficiency in other intellectual endowments, it is nevertheless an 



286 MEMORY. 

unquestionable truth, that a vigorous and retentive Memory 
may be fairly ranked among the most important of the qualities 
which enter into the composition either of an inventive genius, 
or of a comprehensive understanding. In the case, too, of 
some individuals of the most powerful and splendid talents, the 
same preternatural strength of Memory has been exemplified, 
which, in most instances, is considered, and, perhaps, not al- 
together without reason, as symptomatical of a weak and super- 
ficial judgment. Of this I have already produced some re- 
markable proofs in the course of the foregoing observations. 

Why Memory is not so much cultivated among the moderns. — 
It is justly observed by Miss Edgeworth, that such prodigies of 
Memory are not now to be looked for, as we have reason to 
believe were not uncommon in Europe a very few centuries 
ago. " The art of printing, by multiplying copies of books, so 
as to put them within the reach of all classes of the people, has 
lowered the value of those extraordinary powers which some of 
the learned were then accustomed to display with so much osten- 
tation. At the revival of literature in Europe, a man who had 
read a few manuscripts, and could repeat them, was not merely 
a wonder, but a treasure ; he could travel from place to place, 
and live by his learning ; and had far more encouragement to 
engrave the words of others on his memory, than to exercise his 
own powers of judgment and invention." In later times the 
case is greatly altered. A reference in a commonplace-book 
to a particular page, relieves the Memory entirely of its burden ; 
a good index supersedes the labor of years ; or (as Pope has 
very happily expressed the same idea,) 

" Though index-learning turns no student pale, 
It holds the eel of science by the tail." 

Original differences among men in respect to Memory. — The 
facts which have been already mentioned sufficiently account for 
the common opinion, that the original differences among men 
in their capacities of Memory, are incomparably greater than in 
the case of any other faculty. Nay, I must confess, they seem 
to show that this opinion is not altogether without foundation. 



MEMORY. 287 

At the same time, I am fully satisfied that these differences are 
greatly overrated. Even in those cases where Memory seems 
to be the weakest and most incapable of culture, there is com- 
monly sufficient capacity to enable the individual to acquire a 
competent knowledge of his mother-tongue, and to learn to 
recognize, at the first glance, an immense multitude of particular 
objects belonging to all the different departments of nature ; 
beside that general acquaintance with the laws of the material 
world, and the properties of material substances, which is 
necessary for the preservation of our animal existence ; and that 
no less indispensable acquaintance with many maxims of com- 
mon sense, relative to life and conduct, without a knowledge 
of which a man approaches to the condition of an idiot or 
changeling. If we were to analyze carefully this stock of infor- 
mation, it would be found to comprehend a far greater number 
of particulars than we might be disposed at first to suspect. 

I shall avail myself of the title which I have prefixed to this 
section, to introduce here a few detached passages from different 
authors, which appear to me worthy of the attention of those 
who take an interest in the study of the mind. Some of them 
are from books not likely to excite the curiosity of the generality 
of readers ; and all of them may be more or less useful in illus- 
trating the foregoing conclusions. With these extracts I shall 
intersperse slight comments of my own. 

Philosophical minds incapable of attending to trifling details. 
— I begin with a passage from Leibnitz, one of the few philos- 
ophers who have favored the world with any reflections on the 
peculiarities of his own intellectual character. [" Invention or 
ingenuity, like Memory, is of two kinds ; the one prompt, being 
a quality of genius, the other sure, depending on good judg- 
ment. Eloquent persons possess the former, men who are slow 
in forming their conclusions, but yet are not ill-adapted for 
business, have the latter. Others form a remarkable variety, 
as in certain times and places, they are wonderfully prompt, and 
on other occasions, extremely slow. Among these last I rank 
myself, and also perceive that there are few who have the same 



288 MEMORY. 

peculiarity, that all easy things are difficult to me, and on the 
other hand, all difficult things are easy"~\ 

Upon this very remarkable expression with respect to himself, 
it were to be wished that Leibnitz had enlarged a little more 
fully. The only interpretation I can put upon it is, that he felt 
a certain degree of difficulty necessary to rouse his intellectual 
faculties to action ; and that, in consequence of this circumstance, 
(combined probably with a consciousness of his own powers,) 
he was inferior to the common run of mankind in some of those 
easy acquisitions which are within the reach of all. The case, 
I apprehend, is not a singular one ; as we often meet with men 
of the most splendid talents, who are deficient, to a ludicrous 
degree, in some of the most simple and mechanical branches of 
school education. I shall only mention, as examples, the art of 
penmanship, and the still more important one, of arithmetical 
computation ; in both of which, (though from different causes,) 
the progress of the student is retarded rather than aided by an 
extraordinary degree of quickness and of intellectual capacity ; 
and in which, accordingly, men of genius may be expected tc 
fall below the general standard, unless in those cases where they 
have had the good fortune to be carefully trained to the practice 
of them in their childhood, or very early youth. All such 
acquisitions (it may be here observed by the way,) should, on 
this account, be rendered by habit a second nature, before the 
powers of reason and reflection have attained such a degree of 
strength as to render the task of the learner irksome to him- 
self, by presenting more interesting objects to his curiosity. 
The art of reading, in particular, may be taught to infants by 
any person of common sense, by a process almost as insensible 
as the use of speech. 

The foregoing quotation from Leibnitz brings to my recollec- 
tion a fragment of Montesquieu, which affords a memorable 
proof of the difficulty which men of superior minds frequently 
experience in acquiring a ready and practical knowledge of 
those trifling and uninteresting details, which are treasured up 
without any effort by those to whose understandings they are 



MEMORY. 289 

more congenial. " With respect to my employment as president, 
[a judicial title in France,] I have an upright heart — I com- 
prehend with ease the nature of the business ; but of the forms 
of the court I understand nothing, though I took pains to ac- 
quire that knowledge; and what dispirits me most at it is, that 
I observe in some blockheads the very talent I seem unable to 
attain." 

I should, perhaps, have taken an earlier opportunity of re- 
marking, that in contrasting, as I have occasionally done in this 
section, the species of Memory possessed by philosophers with 
that possessed by the vulgar and illiterate, I evidently have in 
view those effects only which their respective pursuits have a 
tendency to produce on the intellectual character. Many ex- 
ceptions to our general conclusions may be expected in particu- 
lar instances ; nor does there seem to be any impossibility in 
the nature of things to unite, by a proper education, the advan- 
tages of both kinds of Memory. That incapacity, for example, 
of attending to trifling details, of which Montesquieu complains 
in the above quotation, and which is one great source of w r hat 
is generally called a bad Memory, is undoubtedly a most serious 
inconvenience to all who have to mingle in the business of the 
world ; and although it is justly overlooked in those whose 
talents and acquirements raise them much above the common 
level, yet it can scarcely be guarded against enough by all 
those who have any concern in the education of youth. To 
enable a person to command his attention, at all times, to what- 
ever object is before him, whether trifling or important, so that 
" whatsoever his hand findeth to do, he may do it with all his 
might," is one of the most important habits that can be commu- 
nicated to his mind. And it would form a most valuable article 
in a systematical treatise on education, to point out the means 
by which this habit may be cultivated, or the contrary habits of 
inattention corrected where they have unfortunately been con- 
tracted. 

The following judicious remark of Mr. Knox, (in his Treatise 
on Education,) while it throws some additional light on these 
varieties of Memory which have been now under our consider- 
25 



290 MEMORY. 

ation, suggests a practical lesson which cannot be too steadily 
kept in view by all who devote themselves to the study of liter- 
ature and of the sciences. In point of value, it seems to me to 
rise considerably above the ordinary level of this author's phi- 
losophy. 

" Some persons seem to think that a good Memory consists 
in retaining dates and minute particulars, but I believe, that, 
though a reader remember but few dates and few minute partic- 
ulars, he may yet retain all the necessary general ideas and 
valuable conclusions. He will' see a wide and beautiful arrange- 
ment of important objects, while another, who stoops to pick up 
and preserve every trifle, will have his eyes fixed on the ground. 
It is not enough that the mind can reproduce just what it has 
received from reading, and no more; it must reproduce it 
digested, altered, improved, and refined. Reading, like food, 
must show its effects in promoting growth ; according to a 
striking remark of Epictetus, the application of which is suffi- 
ciently obvious without any comment ; l Sheep do not show 
the shepherd how much they have eaten by producing the grass 
itself ; but by producing outwardly wool and milk after their 
pasture is inwardly digested.' " 

III. Of the improvement of Memory. — Analysis of the prin- 
ciples on which the culture of Memory depends. — The improve- 
ment of which the mind is susceptible by culture, is more 
remarkable, perhaps, in the case of Memory, than in that of 
any other of our faculties. The fact has been often taken notice 
of in general terms ; but I am doubtful if the particular mode 
in which culture operates on this part of our constitution, has 
been yet examined by philosophers with the attention which it 
deserves. 

Of one sort of culture, indeed, of which Memory is suscepti- 
ble in a very striking degree, no explanation can be given ; I 
mean the improvement which the original faculty acquires by 
mere exercise ; or, in other words, the tendency which practice 
has to increase our natural facility of association. This effect 
of practice upon the Memory, seems to be an ultimate law of 
our nature ; or rather, to be a particular instance of that general 



MEMORY. 291 

law, that all our powers, both of body and mind, may be 
strengthened, by applying them to their proper j urposes. 

Besides, however, the improvement which Memory admits 
of, in consequence of the effects of exercise on the original 
faculty, it may be greatly aided in its operations, by those ex- 
pedients which reason and experience suggest for employing it 
to the best advantage. These expedients furnish a curious sub- 
ject of philosophical examination; perhaps, too, the inquiry 
may not be altogether without use ; for, although our principal re- 
sources for assisting the Memory be suggested by nature, yet it is 
reasonable to think, that in this, as in similar cases, by following 
out systematically the hints which she suggests to us, a further 
preparation may be made for our intellectual improvement. 

How Memory becomes more susceptible and retentive. — Every 
person must have remarked, in entering upon any new species 
of study, the difficulty of treasuring up in the Memory its ele- 
mentary principles ; and the growing facility which he acquires 
in this respect, as his knowledge becomes more extensive. By 
analyzing the different causes which concur in producing this 
facility, we may, perhaps, be led to some conclusions which may 
admit of a practical application. 

1. In every science, the ideas about which it is peculiarly 
conversant, are connected together by some particular associat- 
ing principle ; in one science, for example, by associations 
founded on the relation of cause and effect; in another, by 
associations founded on the necessary relations of mathematical 
truths ; in a third, on associations founded on contiguity in place 
or time. Hence one cause of the gradual improvement of Memory 
with respect to the familiar objects of our knowledge ; for what- 
ever be the prevailing associating principle among the ideas 
about which we are habitually occupied, it must necessarily 
acquire additional strength from our favorite study. 

2. In proportion as a science becomes more familiar to us, 
we acquire a greater command of attention with respect to the 
objects about which it is conversant ; for the information which 
we already possess, gives us an interest in every new truth and 
every new fact which have any relation to it. In most cases, 



292 MEMORY. 

our habits of inattention may be traced to a want of curiosity ; 
and therefore such habits are to be corrected, not by endeavor- 
ing to force the attention in .particular instances, but by gradually 
learning to place the ideas which we w^ish to remember, in an 
interesting point of view. 

3. When we first enter on any new literary pursuit, we are 
unable to make a proper discrimination in point of utility and 
importance, among the ideas which are presented to us ; and by 
attempting to grasp at every thing, we fail in making those 
moderate acquisitions which are suited to the limited powers of 
the human mind. As our information extends, our selection 
becomes more judicious and more confined ; and our knowledge 
of useful and connected truths advances rapidly, from our ceas- 
ing to distract the attention with such as are detached and 
insignificant. * 

4. Every object of our knowledge is related to a variety of 
others ; and may be presented to the thoughts, sometimes by one 
principle of association, and sometimes by another. In propor- 
tion, therefore, to the multiplication of mutual relations among 
our ideas, (which is the natural result of growing information, 
and in particular, of habits of philosophical study,) the greater 
will be the number of occasions on which they will recur to the 
recollection, and the firmer will be the root which each idea, in 
particular, will take in the Memory. 

It follows, too, from this observation, that the facility of re- 
taining a new fact, or a new idea, will depend on the number of 
relations which it bears to the former objects of our knowledge ; 
and, on the other hand, that every such acquisition, so far from 
loading the Memory, gives us a firmer hold of all that part of 
our previous information, with which it is in any degree con- 
nected. 

It may not, perhaps, be improper to take this opportunity of 
observing, although the remark be not immediately connected 
with our present subject, that the accession made to the stock 
of our knowledge, by the new facts and ideas which we acquire, 
is not to be estimated merely by the number of these facts and 
ideas considered individually ; but by the number of relations 



MEMORY. 293 

which they bear to one another, and to all the different particu- 
lars which were previously in the mind ; for " new knowledge," 
as Mr. Maclaurin has well remarked, " does not consist so much 
in our having access to a new object, as in comparing it with 
others already known, observing its relations to them, or dis- 
cerning what it has in common with them, and wherein their 
disparity consists ; and, therefore, our knowledge is vastly 
greater than the sum of what all its objects separately could 
afford ; and when a new object comes within our reach, the 
addition to our knowledge is the greater, the more we already 
know ; so that it increases, not as the new objects increase, but 
in a much higher proportion." 

The above passage may serve to illustrate an ingenious and 
profound^remark of Duclos, in his Considerations sur les Mceurs. 
" If education was judiciously conducted, the mind would acquire 
a great stock of truths with greater ease than it acquires a small 
number of errors. Truths have among themselves a relation 
and connection, certain points of contact, which are equally 
favorable to the powers of apprehension and of Memory ; while, 
on the other hand, errors are commonly so many insulated prop- 
ositions, of which, though it be difficult to shake off the au- 
thority, it is easy to prevent the original acquisition." 

5. In the last place, the natural powers of Memory are, in the 
case of the philosopher, greatly aided by his peculiar habits of 
classification and arrangement. As this is by far the most im- 
portant improvement of which Memory is susceptible, I shall 
consider it more particularly than any of the others I have 
mentioned. 

How Memory is aided by the classification of ideas. — The 
advantages which the Memory derives from a proper classifica- 
tion of our ideas, may be best conceived by attending to its 
effects in enabling us to conduct with ease the common business 
of life. In what inextricable confusion would the lawyer or the 
merchant be immediately involved, if he were to deposit, in his 
cabinet, promiscuously, the various written documents which 
daily and hourly pass through his hands ? Nor could this con- 
fusion be prevented by the natural powers of Memory, however 

25* 



294 MEMORY. 

vigorous they might happen to be. By a proper distribution 
of these documents, and a judicious reference of them to a few 
general titles, a very ordinary Memory is enabled to accomplish 
more, than the most retentive, unassisted by method. We 
know, with certainty, where to find any article we may have 
occasion for, if it be in our possession ; and the search is con- 
fined within reasonable limits, instead of being allowed to 
wander at random amidst a chaos of particulars. 

Or, to take an instance still more immediately applicable to 
our purpose ; suppose that a man of letters were to record, in a 
commonplace-book, without any method, all the various ideas 
and facts which occurred to him in the course of his studies ; 
what difficulties would he perpetually experience in applying 
his acquisitions to use ? and how completely and easily might 
these difficulties be obviated by referring the particulars of his 
Information to certain general heads ? It is obvious, too, that, 
by doing so, he would not only have his knowledge much more 
completely under his command, but as the particulars classed 
ogether would all have some connection, more or less, with each 
other, he would be enabled to trace, with advantage, those 
mutual relations among his ideas, which it is the object of 
philosophy to ascertain. 

A commonplace-book, conducted without any method, is an 
exact picture of the Memory of a man whose inquiries are not 
directed by philosophy. And the advantages of order in treas- 
uring up our ideas in the mind, are perfectly analogous to its 
effects when they are recorded in writing. 

Nor is this all. In order to retain our knowledge distinctly 
and permanently, it is necessary that we should frequently re- 
call it to our recollection. But how can this be done without 
the aid of arrangement ? Or supposing that it were possible, 
how much time and labor would be necessary for bringing under 
our review the various particulars of which our information is 
composed ? In proportion as it is properly systematized, this 
time and labor are abridged. The mind dweiis habitually, not 
on detached facts, but on a comparatively small number of gen- 
eral principles ; and, by means of these, it can summon up, as 



MEMORY. 295 

occasions may require, an infinite number of particulars associ' 
ated with them ; each of which, considered as a solitary truth, 
would have been as burdensome to the Memory, as the general 
principle with which it is connected.* 

Classification alone does not constitute philosophy. — I would 
not wish it to be understood from these observations, that philoso- 
phy consists in classification alone ; and that its only use is to 
assist the Memory. I have often, indeed, heard this asserted 
in general terms ; but it rather appears to me to be obvious, 
that, although this be one of its most important uses, yet some- 
thing more is necessary to complete the definition of it. Were 
the case otherwise, it would follow, that all classifications are 
equally philosophical, provided they are equally comprehensive. 
The very great importance of this subject will, I hope, be a 
sufficient apology for me, in taking this opportunity to correct 
some mistaken opinions which have been formed concerning it. 

IV. Aid which the Memory derives from philosophical ar- 
rangement. — It was before observed, that the great use of the 
faculty of Memory, is to enable us to treasure up, for the 
future regulation of our conduct, the results of our past experi- 
ence, and of our past reflections. But in every case in which 
we judge of the future from the past, we must proceed on the 
belief, that there is, in the course of events, a certain degree, at 
least, of uniformity. And, accordingly, this belief is not only 
justified by experience, but (as Dr. Reid has shown, in a very 
satisfactory manner,) it forms a part of the original constitution 
of the human mind. In the general laws of the material world, 
this uniformity is found to be complete ; insomuch that, in the 



* It is very justly and ingeniously remarked by Dr. Priestley, that " the 
more we know of any branch of science, the less is the compass into which 
we are able to bring its principles, provided the facts from which they are 
inferred be numerous." The reason is, that, " in an advanced state of 
knowledge, we arc able to reduce more of the particular into general obser- 
vations ; whereas, in the infancy of a science, every observation is an 
independent fact ; and, in delivering the principles of it, they must all be 
distinctly mentioned ; so that, though a selection may be made, a proper 
abridgment is impossible." 



296 MEMORY. 

same combinations of circumstances, we expect, with the most 
perfect assurance, that the same results will take place. In the 
moral world, the course of events does not appear to be equally 
regular ; but still it is regular to so great a degree, as to afford 
us many rules of importance in the conduct of life. 

A knowledge of nature, in so far as it is absolutely necessary 
for the preservation of our animal existence, is obtruded on us, 
without any reflection on our part, from our earliest infancy. It 
is thus that children learn of themselves to accommodate their 
conduct to the established laws of the material world. In doing 
so, they are guided merely by Memory, and the instinctive 
principle of anticipation which has just been mentioned. 

In forming conclusions concerning future events, the philoso- 
pher, as well as the infant, can only build with safety on past 
experience ; and he, too, as well as the infant, proceeds on an in- 
stinctive belief, for which he is unable to account, of the uni- 
formity of the laws of nature. There are, however, two im- 
portant respects, which distinguish the knowledge he possesses 
from that of ordinary men. In the^rs^ place, it is far more 
extensive, in consequence of the assistance which science gives 
to his natural powers of invention and discovery. Secondly, it 
is not only more easily retained in the Memory, and more con- 
veniently applied to use, in consequence of the manner in 
which his ideas are arranged ; but it enables him to ascertain, 
by a process of reasoning, all those truths which may be syntheti- 
cally deduced from his general principles. The illustration of 
these particulars will lead to some useful remarks ; and will at 
the same time show, that, in discussing the subject of this sec- 
tion, I have not lost sight of the inquiry which occasioned it. 

How philosophy aids our powers of invention and discovery. — 
I. (1.) It was already remarked, that the natural powers of Mem- 
ory, together with that instinctive anticipation of the future 
from the past, which forms one of the original principles of the 
mind, are sufficient to enable infants, after a very short experi- 
ence, to preserve their animal existence. The laws of nature, 
which it is not so important for us to know, and which are the 
objects of philosophical curiosity, are not so obviously exposed 



MEMORY. 297 

to our view, but are, in general, brought to light by means of 
experiments which are made for the purpose of discovery ; or, 
in other words, by artificial combinations of circumstances, 
which we have no opportunity of seeing conjoined in the course 
of our ordinary experience. In this manner, it is evident, that 
many connections may be ascertained, which would never have 
occurred spontaneously to our observation. 

(2.) There are, too, some instances, particularly in the case 
of the astronomical phenomena, in which events, that appear to 
common observers to be altogether anomalous, are found, upon 
a more accurate and continued examination of them, to be sub- 
jected to a regular law. Such are those phenomena in the 
heavens, which we are able to predict by means of cycles. In 
the cases formerly described, our knowledge of nature is ex- 
tended by placing her in new situations. In these cases, it is 
extended by continuing our observations beyond the limits of 
ordinary curiosity. 

(3.) In the case of human affairs, as long as we confine our 
attention to particulars, we do not observe the same uniformity, 
as in the phenomena of the material world. When, however, 
we extend our views to events which depend on a combination 
of different circumstances, such a degree of uniformity appears, 
as enables us to establish general rules, from which probable 
conjectures may often be formed with respect to futurity. It is 
thus, that we can pronounce, with much greater confidence, 
concerning the proportion of deaths which shall happen in a 
certain period among a given number of men, than we can pre- 
dict the death of any individual ; and that it is more reasonable 
to employ our sagacity, in speculating concerning the probable 
determinations of a numerous society, than concerning events 
which depend on the will of a single person. 

In what manner this uniformity in events depending on con- 
tingent circumstances is produced, I shall not inquire at present. 
The advantages which we derive from it are obvious, as it 
enables us to collect, from our past experience, many general 
rules, both with respect to the history of political societies, and 
the characters and conduct of men in private life. 



m 



MEMORY. 



(4.) In the last place, the knowledge of the philosopher is 
more extensive than that of other men, in consequence of the 
attention which he gives, not merely to objects and events, but 
to the relations which different objects and different events bear 
to each other. 

The observations and the experience of the vulgar are almost 
wholly limited to things perceived by the senses. A similarity 
between different objects, or between different events, rouses 
their curiosity, and leads them to classification and to general 
rules. But a similarity between different relations is seldom to 
be traced without previous habits of philosophical inquiry. 
Many such similarities or connections, however, are to be found 
in nature ; and when once they are ascertained, they frequently 
lead to important discoveries ; not only with respect to other 
relations, but with respect to the objects or to the events which 
are related. These remarks it will be necessary to illustrate 
more particularly. 

Aid derived from a study of the relations of things. — The 
great object of geometry is to ascertain the relations which 
exist between different quantities, and the connections which 
exist between different relations. When we demonstrate, that 
the angle at the centre of a circle is double of the angle at the 
circumference on the same base, we ascertain a relation between 
two quantities. When we demonstrate, that triangles of the 
same altitude are to each other as their bases, we ascertain a 
connection between two relations. It is obvious, how much the 
mathematical sciences must contribute to enlarge our knowledge 
of the universe, in consequence of such discoveries. In that 
simplest of all processes of practical geometry, which teaches 
us to measure the height of an accessible tower, by comparing 
the length of its shadow with that of a staff fixed vertically in 
the ground, we proceed on the principle, that the relation 
between the shadow of the staff and the height of the staff is 
the same with the relation between the shadow of the tower 
and the height of the tower. But the former relation we can 
ascertain by actual measurement ; and, of consequence, we not 
only obtain the other relation, but, as we can measure one of 



MEMORY. 299 

the related quantities, we obtain also the other quantity. In 
every case in which mathematics assists us in measuring the 
magnitudes or the distances of objects, it oroceeds on the same 
principle ; that is, it begins with ascertaining connections among 
different relations, and thus enables us to carry our inquiries 
from facts which are exposed to the examination of our senses, 
to the most remote parts of the universe. 

I observed, also, that there are various relations existing 
among physical events, and various connections existing among 
these relations. It is owing to this circumstance, that mathe- 
matics is so useful an instrument in .£ ,o hands of the physical 
inquirer. In that beautiful theorem of Huygens, which demon- 
strates, that the time of a complete oscillation of a pendulum in 
the cycloid, is to the time in which a body would fall through 
the axis of the cycloid, as the circumference of a circle is to its 
diameter, we are made acquainted with a very curious and 
unexpected connection between two relations ; and the knowl- 
edge of this connection facilitates the determination of a most 
important fact, with respect to the descent of heavy bodies near 
the earth's surface, which could not be ascertained conveniently 
by a direct experiment. 

In examining with attention the relations among different 
physical events, and the connections among different relations, 
we sometimes are led by mere induction to the discovery of a 
general law, while, to ordinary observers, nothing appears but 
irregularity. From the writings of the earlier opticians we 
learn, that, in examining the first principles of dioptrics, they 
were led, by the analogy of the law of reflection, to search for 
the relation between the angles of incidence and refraction, (in 
the case of light passing from one medium into another,) in the 
angles themselves ; and that some of them, finding this inquiry 
unsuccessful, took the trouble to determine, by experiments, (in 
the case of the media which most frequently fall under con- 
sideration,) the angle of refraction corresponding to every 
minute of incidence. Some very laborious tables, deduced from 
such experiments, are to be found in the works of Kircher. At 
length, Snellius discovered what is now called the law of refrac- 



300 MEMORY. 

lion, which comprehends their whole contents in a single sen- 
tence : [the sine of the angle of incidence bears a constant ratk 
to the sine of the angle of refraction, for each refracting me* 
dium.] 

The law of the planetary motions, deduced by Kepler, from 
the observations of Tycho Brahe, is another striking illustration 
of the order, which an attentive inquirer is sometimes able to 
trace, among the relations of physical events, when the events 
themselves appear, on a superficial view, to be perfectly anoma- 
lous. 

Such laws are, in some respects, analogous to the cycles 
which I have already mentioned ; but they differ from them in 
this, that a cycle is, commonly, deduced from observations made 
on physical events which are obvious to the senses ; whereas 
the laws we have now been considering are deduced from an 
examination of relations which are known only to men of science. 
The most celebrated astronomical cycles, accordingly, are of a 
very remote antiquity, and were probably discovered at a period 
when the study of astronomy consisted merely in accumulating 
and recording the more striking appearances of the heavens. 

II. Memory aided by the power of deducing particular truths 
from general principles. — Having now endeavored to show 
how much philosophy contributes to extend our knowledge of 
facts, by aiding our natural powers of invention and discovery, 
I proceed to explain in what manner it supersedes the neces- 
sity of studying particular truths, by putting us in possession of 
a comparatively small number of general principles in which 
they are involved. 

I already remarked the assistance which philosophy gives to 
the Memory, in consequence of the arrangement it introduces 
among our ideas. In this respect, even a hypothetical theory 
may facilitate the recollection of facts, in the same manner in 
which the Memory is aided in remembering the objects of 
natural history by artificial classifications.* 

* [" Classification is a contrivance for the best possible ordering of the 
ideas of objects in our minds ; for causing the ideas to accompany or sue- 



MEMORY. 801 

The advantages, however, we derive from true philosophy, 
are incomparably greater than what are to be expected from 
any hypothetical theories. These, indeed, may assist us in 
recollecting the particulars we are already acquainted with ; 
but it is only from the laws of nature, which have been traced 
analytically from facts, that we can venture, with safety, to de- 
duce consequences by reasoning a priori. An example will 
illustrate and confirm this observation. 

Suppose that a glass tube, thirty inches long, is filled with 

ceed one another in such a way as shall give us the greatest command over 
our knowledge already acquired, and lead most directly to the acquisition 
of more. The general problem of Classification, in reference to these pur- 
poses, may be stated as follows : To provide that things shall be thought of 
in such groups, and those groups in such an order, as will best conduce to 
the remembrance and to the ascertainment of their laws." 

" There is no property of objects which may not be taken, if we please, 
as the foundation for a classification or mental grouping of those objects ; 
and, in our first attempts, we are likely to select for that purpose properties 
which are simple, easily conceived, and perceptible on a first view, with- 
out any previous process of thought. Thus, Tournefort's arrangement of 
plants was founded on the shape and divisions of the corolla ; and that 
which is commonly called the Linnaean, (though Linnaeus also suggested 
another and more scientific arrangement,) was grounded chiefly upon the 
number of the stamens and pistils. 

" But these classifications, which are at first recommended by the facilitj 
they afford us of ascertaining to what class any individual belongs, are 
seldom much adapted to the ends of that Classification which is the subject 
of our present remarks. [They are like the alphabetical arrangement of 
words in a dictionary, which answers no other purpose than that of en- 
abling us easily to find the particular word which we are in search of.] 
The Linnaean arrangement answers the purpose of making us think to- 
gether of all those kinds of plants which possess the same number of sta- 
mens and pistils ; but to think of them in that manner is of little use, 
since we seldom have any thing to affirm in common of the plants which 
have a given number of stamens and pistils. . . . And inasmuch as, 
by habitually thinking of plants in these groups, we are prevented from 
habitually thinking of them in groups which have a greater number of 
properties in common, the effect of such a classification, when system- 
atically adhered to, upon our habits of thought, must be regarded as mis- 
chievous. 

" The ends of scientific classification are best answered when the objects 
26 



302 MEMORY. 

mercury, excepting eight inches, and is inverted, as in the Torri- 
cellian experiment, so that the eight inches of common air may 
rise to the top ; and that I wish to know at what height the 
mercury will remain suspended in the tube, the barometer being 
at that time twenty-eight inches high. There is here a combi- 
nation of different laws, which it is necessary to attend to, in 
order to be able to predict the result. 1. The air is a heavy 
fluid, and the pressure of the atmosphere is measured by the 
column of mercury in the barometer. 2. The air is an elastic 
fluid, and its elasticity at the earth's surface (as it resists the 
pressure of the atmosphere) is measured by the column of mer- 

are formed into groups, respecting which a greater number of general propo- 
sitions can be made, and those propositions more important, than could 
be made respecting any other groups into which the same things could be 
distributed. The properties, therefoi-e, according to which objects are 
classified, should, if possible, be those which are the causes of many other 
properties ; or, at any rate, which are sure marks of them. ... A 
classification thus formed is properly scientific or philosophical, and is 
commonly called a Natural, in contradistinction to a Technical or Arti 
ficial, classification or arrangement." Mill's System of Logic, Am. ed. pp. 
432-434. 

To these excellent remarks of Mr. Mill, it may be added, that writers 
even upon the moral sciences, in which classification is less essential as an 
aid to the processes of invention and discovery, still strive to assist the 
Memory of their readers, and to give a sort of factitious unity to their 
otherwise isolated disquisitions, by bringing forward, with undue promi- 
nence, some one fact or principle, on which all their other speculations 
seem to hitch, and which serves, so to speak, as a kind of key-note to the 
whole work. Thus, in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, Adam Smith, as 
we believe, places more stress upon sympathy, and adduces it more fre- 
quently to aid in the explanation of complex moral phenomena, than he 
would have done for purely philosophical reasons, had he not wished to 
give a semblance of harmony and systematic completeness to his remarks 
upon a great variety of subjects. He uses a similar artifice in his great 
work upon the Wealth of Nations, in which a great deal more is said about 
the division of labor, than would have appeared necessary, had he not been 
anxious to avoid the air of desultory speculation. A more transparent 
artifice is often adopted by periodical essayists, like Steele, Swift, Addison, 
and Goldsmith, by cai-rying out the fiction of a club of contributors, or an 
imaginary editor, so that rambling essays upon many subjects may have 
a slender thread of connection with each other. ] 



MEMORY. 303 

cury in the barometer. 3. In different states, the elastic force 
of the air is reciprocally as the spaces which it occupies. But, 
in this experiment, the mercury which remains suspended in 
the tube, together with the elastic force of the air in the top of 
the tube, is a counterbalance to the pressure of the atmosphere ; 
and therefore, their joint effect must be equal to the pressure of 
a column of mercury twenty-eight inches high. Hence we 
obtain an algebraical equation, which affords an easy solution of 
the problem. It is further evident, that my knowledge of the 
physical laws which are here combined, puts it in my power to 
foretell the result, not only in this case, but in all the cases of a 
similar nature which can be supposed. The problem, in any 
particular instance, might be solved by making the experiment ; 
but the result would be of no use to me, if the slightest alter- 
ation were made on the data. # 

It is in this manner that philosophy, by putting us in posses- 
sion of a few general facts, enables us to determine, by reason- 
ing, what will be the result of any supposed combination of 
them, and thus to comprehend an infinite variety of particulars, 
which no Memory, however vigorous, would have been able to 
retain. In consequence of the knowledge of such general facts, 
the philosopher is relieved from the necessity of treasuring up 
in his mind all those truths which are involved in his principles, 
and which may be deduced from them by reasoning ; and he 
can often prosecute his discoveries, synthetically, in those parts 
of the universe which he has no access to examine by immedi- 
ate observation. There is, therefore, this important difference 
between the hypothetical theory and a theory obtained by induc- 
tion ; that the latter not only enables us to remember the facts 
we already know, but to ascertain, by reasoning, many facts 
which we have never had an opportunity of examining : whereas, 
when we reason from a hypothesis a priori, we are almost cer- 
tain of running into error ; and, consequently, whatever may 
be its use to the Memory, it can never be trusted to in judging 
of cases which have not previously fallen within our experience. 

In what sciences hypothetical theories are most useful. — There 
are some sciences, in which hypothetical theories are more use- 



304 MEMORY. 

fill than in others ; those sciences, to wit, in which we nave 
occasion for an extensive knowledge and a ready recollection of 
facts, and which, at the same lime, are yet in too imperfect a 
state to allow us to obtain just theories by the method of induc- 
tion. This is particularly the case in the science of medicine, 
in which we are under a necessity to apply our knowledge, such 
as it is, to practice. It is, also, in some degree, the case in agri- 
culture. In the merely speculative parts of physic and chemis- 
try, we may go on patiently accumulating facts, without forming 
any one conclusion, further than our facts authorize us ; and 
leave to posterity the credit of establishing the theory to which 
our labors are subservient. But in medicine, in which it is of 
consequence to have our knowledge at command, it seems reason- 
able to think, that hypothetical theories may be used with ad- 
vantage ; provided always, that they are considered merely in 
the light of artificial memories, and that the student is prepared 
to lay them aside, or to correct them, in proportion as his knowl- 
edge of nature becomes more extensive. I am, indeed, ready 
to confess, that this is a caution which it is more easy to give, than 
to follow ; for it is painful to change any of our habits of 
arrangement, and to relinquish those systems in which we have 
been educated, and which have long flattered us with an idea 
of our own wisdom. Dr. Gregory mentions it as a striking 
and distinguishing circumstance in the character of Sydenham, 
that, although full of hypothetical reasoning, it did not render 
him the less attentive to observation ; and that his hypotheses 
seem to have sat so loosely about him, that either they did not 
influence his practice at all, or he could easily abandon them, 
whenever they would not bend to his experience. 

V. Effects produced on the Memory by committing to writing 
our acquired knowledge. — Having treated at considerable length 
of the improvement of Memory, it may not be improper, before 
leaving this part of the subject, to consider what effects are 
likely to be produced on the mind by the practice of committing 
to writing our acquired knowledge. That such a practice is 
unfavorable, in some respects, to the faculty of Memory, by 
superseding, to a certain degree, the necessity of its exertions, 



MEMORY. 805 

has been often remarked, and, I believe, is true ; but the advan- 
tages with which it is attended in other respects, are so impor- 
tant, as to overbalance greatly this trifling inconvenience. 

It is not my intention, at present, to examine and compare 
together the different methods which have been proposed, of 
keeping a commonplace-book. In this, as in other cases of a 
similar kind, it may be difficult, perhaps, or impossible, to 
establish any rules which will apply universally. Individuals 
must be left to judge for themselves, and to adapt their con- 
trivances to the particular nature of their literary pursuits, and 
to their own peculiar habits of association and arrangement. 
The remarks which I am to offer are very general, and are in- 
tended merely to illustrate a few of the advantages which the 
art of writing affords to the philosopher, for recording, in the 
course of his progress through life, the results of his specula- 
tions, and the fruits of his experience. 

The utility of writing, in enabling one generation to transmit 
its discoveries to another, and in thus giving rise to a gradual 
progress in the species, has been sufficiently illustrated by many 
authors. Little attention, however, has been paid to another of 
its effects, which is no less important ; I mean, to the foundation 
which it lays for a perpetual progress in the intellectual powers 
of the individual. 

Advantages of the practice of recording our ideas and ex- 
perience. — It is to experience, and to our own reflections, that 
we are indebted for by far the most valuable part of our knowl- 
edge ; and hence it is, that although in youth the imagination 
may be more vigorous, and the genius more original, than in 
advanced years ; yet, in the case of a man of observation and 
inquiry, the judgment may be expected, at least as long as his 
faculties remain in perfection, to become every day sounder and 
more enlightened. It is, however, only by the constant practice 
of writing, that the results of our experience, and the progress 
of our ideas, can be accurately recorded. If they are trusted 
merely to the Memory, they will gradually vanish from it like 
a dream, or will come in time to be so blended with the sugges- 
tions of imagination, that we shall not be able to reason from 
26* 



306 MEMORY, 

them with any degree of confidence. What improvements in 
science might we not flatter ourselves with the hopes of accom- 
plishing, had we only activity and industry to treasure up every 
plausible hint that occurs to us ! Hardly a day passes, when 
many such do not occur to ourselves, or are suggested by others ; 
and detached and insulated as they may appear at present, some 
of them may, perhaps, afterwards, at the distance of years, fur- 
nish the key-stone of an important system. 

A long train of reasoning or investigation cannot be prosecuted 
except in writing. — But it is not only in this point of view, that 
the philosopher derives advantage from the practice of writing. 
Without its assistance, he could seldom be able to advance 
beyond those simple elementary truths which are current in the 
world, and which form, in the various branches of science, the 
established creed of the age he lives in. How inconsiderable 
would have been the progress of mathematicians, in their more 
abstruse speculations, without the aid of the algebraical notation ; 
and to what sublime discoveries have they been led by this 
beautiful contrivance, which, by relieving the Memory of the 
effort necessary for recollecting the steps of a long investiga- 
tion, has enabled them to prosecute an infinite variety of in- 
quiries, to which the unassisted powers of the human mind would 
have been altogether unequal ! In the other sciences, it is true, 
we have seldom or never occasion to follow out such long chains 
of consequences as in mathematics ; but in these sciences, if the 
chain of investigation be shorter, it is far more difficult to make 
the transition from one link to another ; and it is only by dwell- 
ing long on our ideas, and rendering them perfectly familiar to 
us, that such transitions can, in most instances, be made with 
safety. In morals and politics, when we advance a step beyond 
those elementary truths which are daily presented to us in books 
or conversation, there is no method of rendering our conclusions 
familiar to us, but by committing them to writing, and making 
them frequently the subjects of our meditation. When we have 
once done so, these conclusions become elementary truths with 
respect to us ; and we may advance from them with confidence 
to others which are more remote, and which are far beyond the 



MEMORY. 3C7 

reach of vulgar discovery. By following such a plan, we can 
hardly fail to have our industry rewarded in due time by some 
important improvement ; and it is only by such a plan, that we 
can reasonably hope to extend considerably the boundaries of 
human knowledge. I do not say that these habits of study are 
equally favorable to brilliancy of conversation. On the con- 
trary, I believe that those men who possess this accomplishment 
in the highest degree, are such as do not advance beyond ele- 
mentary truths ; or rather, perhaps, who advance only a single 
step beyond them ; that is, who think a little more deeply than 
the vulgar, but whose conclusions are not so far removed from 
common opinions, as to render it necessary for them, when called 
upon to defend them, to exhaust the patience of their hearers, 
by stating a long train of intermediate ideas. They who have 
pushed their inquiries much further than the common systems 
of their times, and have rendered familiar to their own minds 
the intermediate steps by which they have been led to their con- 
clusions, are too apt to conceive other men to be in the same 
situation with themselves ; and when they mean to instruct, are 
mortified to find that they are only regarded as paradoxical and 
visionary. It is but rarely we find a man of very splendid and 
various conversation to be possessed of a profound judgment, 
or of great originality of genius. 

Nor is it merely to the philosopher, who wishes to distinguish 
himself by his discoveries, that writing affords a useful instru- 
ment of study. Important assistance may be derived from it 
by all those who wish to impress on their minds the investiga- 
tions which occur to them in the course of their reading ; for 
although writing may weaken, as I already acknowledge it does, 
a Memory for detached observations, or for insulated facts, it 
will be found the only effectual method of fixing in it, perma- 
nently, those acquisitions which involve long processes of 
reasoning. 

How what we learn from another may he made our own. — 
When we are employed in inquiries of our own, the conclusions 
which we form make a much deeper and more lasting impres- 
sion on the Memory, than any knowledge which we imbibe pas* 



806 MEMORY. 

sively from another. This is undoubtedly owing, in part, to the 
effect which the ardor of discovery has, in rousing the activity 
of the mind, and in fixing its attention ; but I apprehend it is 
chiefly to be ascribed to this, that when we follow out a train 
of thinking of our own, our ideas are arranged in that order 
which is most agreeable to our prevailing habits of association. 
The only method of putting our acquired knowledge on a level, 
in this respect, with our original speculations, is, after making 
ourselves acquainted with our author's ideas, to study the sub- 
ject over again in our own way ; to pause, from time to time, 
in the course of our reading, in order to consider what we have 
gained ; to recollect what the propositions are, which the author 
wishes to establish, and to examine the different proofs which 
he employs to support them. In making such an experiment, 
we commonly find, that the different steps of the process arrange 
themselves in our minds, in a manner different from that in 
which the author has stated them ; and that, while his argu- 
ment seems, in some places, obscure, from its conciseness, it is 
tedious in others, from being unnecessarily expanded. When 
we have reduced the reasoning to that form which appears to 
ourselves to be the most natural and satisfactory, we may con- 
clude with certainty, not that this form is better in itself than 
another, but that it is the best adapted to our Memory. Such 
reasonings, therefore, as we have occasion frequently to apply, 
either in the business of life, or in the course of our studies, it 
is of importance to us to commit to writing, in a language and 
in an order of our own ; and if, at any time, we find it necessary 
to refresh our recollection on the subject, to have recourse to 
our own composition, in preference to that of any other author.* 



* [It is a little remarkable that Stewart, in this ingenious disquisition 
upon the advantages of the practice of writing out our thoughts, should 
have overlooked that upon which Lord Bacon lays especial stress, when 
he says, " Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writ- 
ing an exact man." In no other way, are we so sure of obtaining precision 
and exactness in our knowledge and in our. trains of reasoning and 
speculation, as by writing out our thoughts and recollections as fast as 
they occur to us, whether we afterwards carefully examine the manuscript 






MEMORY. 309 

Different modes of reading. — That the plan of reading which 
is commonly followed is very different from that which I have 
been recommending, will not be disputed. Most people read 
merely to pass an idle hour, or to please themselves with the 
idea of employment, while their indolence prevents them from 
any active exertion ; and a considerable number, with a view to 
the display which they are afterwards to make of their literary 
acquisitions. From whichsoever of these motives a person is 
led to the perusal of books, it is hardly possible that he can 
derive from them any material advantage. If he reads merely 
from indolence, the ideas which pass through his mind will 
probably leave little or no impression ; and if he reads from 
vanity, he will be more anxious to select striking particulars in 
the matter or expression, than to seize the spirit and scope of 
the author's reasoning, or to examine how far he has made any 
additions to the stock of useful and solid knowledge. " Though 
it is scarce possible," says Dr. Butler, " to avoid judging, in some 
way or other, of almost every thing which offers itself to one's 
thoughts, yet it is certain that many persons, from different 
causes, never exercise their judgment upon what comes before 
them, in such a manner as to be able to determine how far it be 
conclusive. They are perhaps entertained with some things, 
not so with others ; they like, and they dislike ; but whether 



or not. In conversation, and even in our studious meditations, the 
attention is apt to wander from the main subject in hand, gaps and 
fallacies in reasoning escape unnoticed, and vagueness or uncertainty of 
expression is apt to dim the truth of which we were just beginning to 
catch a glimpse. But when we think with the pen in hand, we are com- 
pelled to think slowly ; we are obliged to pause upon the thought which 
we are writing out, while at the same time the attention is not allowed 
to wander from it, so that other related ideas have time to be suggested 
to us, and we have time to reflect upon these before they are adopted. 
The necessary effort to retain perspicuity of language tends to give pre- 
cision to our thoughts ; and the idea which was only half formed 01 
vaguely seen when we began to write, soon swells out into harmony 
and completeness. The effort to instruct others has a similar effect 
upon the mind with that of writing out our knowledge ; hence the force 
of the old proverb, docerp olios rfocet dorforem. | 



310 MEMORY. 

that which is proposed to be made out, be really made out or 
not ; whether a matter be stated according to the real truth of 
the case, seems, to the generality of people, a circumstance of 
little or no importance. Arguments are often wanted for some 
accidental purpose ; but proof, as such, is what they never want, 
for their own satisfaction of mind, or conduct in life. Not to 
mention the multitudes who read merely for the sake of talking, 
or to qualify themselves for the world, or some such kind of 
reasons, there are, even of the few who read for their own 
entertainment, and have a real curiosity to see what is said, 
several, which is astonishing, who have no sort of curiosity to 
see what is true ; I say curiosity, because it is too obvious to be 
mentioned how much that religious and sacred attention which 
is due to truth, and to the important question, what is the rule 
of life, is lost out of the world. 

61 For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they are of 
different capacities, different kinds, and get into this way from 
different occasions, I have often wished that it had been the 
custom to lay before people nothing in matters of argument 
but premises, and leave them to draw conclusions themselves ; 
which, although it could not be done in all cases, might in 
many. 

" The great number of books and papers of amusement, 
which, of one kind or another, daily come in one's way, have in 
part occasioned, and most perfectly fall in with and humor, this 
idle way of reading and considering things. By this means, 
time, even in solitude, is happily got rid of without the pain of 
attention ; neither is any part of it more put to the account of 
idleness, (one can scarce forbear saying, is spent with less 
thought,) than great part of that which is spent in reading." 

If the plan of study which I formerly described were adopted, 
it would, undoubtedly, diminish very much the number of books 
which it would be possible to turn over ; but I am convinced 
that it would add greatly to the stock of useful and solid knowl- 
edge ; and, by rendering our acquired ideas in some measure 
our own, would give us a more ready and practical command of 
aem ; not to mention, that if we are possessed of any inventive 



MEMORY. 311 

powers, such exercises would continually furnish them with an 
opportunity of displaying themselves upon all the different sub- 
jects which may pass under our review. 

Nothing, in truth, has such a tendency to weaken, not only 
the powers of invention, but the intellectual powers in general, 
as a habit of extensive and various reading, without reflection. 
The activity and force of the mind are gradually impaired, in 
consequence of disuse ; and not unfrequently all our principles 
and opinions come to be lost, in the infinite multiplicity and dis- 
cordancy of our acquired ideas. 

By confining our ambition to pursue the truth with modesty 
and candor, and learning to value our acquisitions only as far 
as they contribute to make us wiser and happier, we may, per- 
haps, be obliged to sacrifice the temporary admiration of the 
common dispensers of literary fame ; but we may rest assured, 
that it is in this way only we can hope to make real progress in 
knowledge, or to enrich the world with useful inventions. 

" It requires courage, indeed," as Helvetius has remarked, 
" to remain ignorant of those useless subjects which are gener- 
ally valued ; " but it is a courage necessary to men who either 
love the truth, or who aspire to establish a permanent repu- 
tation. 

VI. Of artificial Memory. — By an artificial Memory is 
meant, a method of connecting in the mind things difficult to be 
remembered, with the things easily remembered ; so as to en- 
able it to retain and to recollect the former, by means of the 
latter. For this purpose, various contrivances have been pro- 
posed, but I think the foregoing definition applies to all of them 

Some sorts of artificial Memory are intended to assist the 
natural powers of the human mind on particular occasions, 
which require a more than ordinary effort of recollection ; for 
example, to assist a public speaker to recollect the arrangement 
of a long discourse. Others have been devised with a view to 
enable us to extend the circle of our acquired knowledge, and 
to give us a more ready command of all the various particulars 
of our information. 

The topical Memory so much celebrated among the ancient 
rhetoricians, comes under the former description. 



812 MEMORY. 

How association may be made to assist Memory. — I already re- 
marked the effect of sensible objects, in recalling to the mind the 
ideas with which it happened to be occupied, at the time when 
these objects were formerly perceived. In travelling along a 
road, the sight of the more remarkable scenes we meet with, 
frequently puts us in mind of the subjects we were thinking or 
talking of when we last saw them. Such facts, which are per- 
fectly familiar even to the vulgar, might very naturally suggest 
the possibility of assisting the Memory, by establishing a connec- 
tion between the ideas we wish to remember, and certain sensible 
objects, which have been found from experience to make a per- 
manent impression on the mind. I have been told of a young 
woman, in a very low rank of life, who contrived a method of 
committing to Memory the sermons which she was accustomed 
to hear, by fixing her attention, during the different heads of 
the discourse, on different compartments of the roof of the 
church, in such a manner as that, when she afterwards saw the 
roof, or recollected the order in which its compartments were 
disposed, she recollected the method which the preacher had 
observed in treating his subject. This contrivance was perfectly 
analogous to the topical Memory of the ancients ; an art which, 
whatever be the opinion we entertain of its use, is certainly 
entitled, in a high degree, to the praise of ingenuity. 

Suppose that I w r ere to fix in my Memory the different 
apartments in some very large building, and that I had accus- 
tomed myself to think of these apartments always in the same 
invariable order. Suppose further, that in preparing myself 
for a public discourse, in which I had occasion to treat of a great 
variety of particulars, I was anxious to fix in my Memory the 
order I proposed to observe in the communication of my ideas. 
It is evident, that by a proper division of my subject into heads, 
and by connecting each head with a particular apartment, 
(which I could easily do, by conceiving myself to be sitting in 
the apartment while I was studying the part of my discourse I 
meant to connect with it,) the habitual order in which these 
apartments occurred to my thoughts, would present to me, in 
their proper arrangement, and without any effort on my part, 



MEMORY. 313 

the ideas of which I' was to treat. It is also obvious, that a 
very little practice would enable me to avail myself of this con- 
trivance, without any embarrassment or distraction of my at- 
tention. 

How far artificial Memory is useful. — As to the utility of 
this art, it appears to me to depend entirely on the particular 
object which we suppose the speaker to have in view ; whether, 
as was too often the case with the ancient rhetoricians, to be- 
wilder a judge, and to silence an adversary ; or fairly and can- 
didly to lead an audience to the truth. On the former suppo- 
sition, nothing can possibly give an orator a greater superiority, 
than the possession of a secret, which, while it enables him to 
express himself with facility and the appearance of method, 
puts it in his power, at the same time, to dispose his arguments 
and his facts in whatever order he judges to be the most proper 
to miblead the judgment, and to perplex the Memory, of those 
whom he addresses. And such, it is manifest, is the effect, not 
only of the topical Memory of the ancients, but of all other 
contrivances which aid the recollection, upon any principle dif- 
ferent from the natural and logical arrangement of our ideas. 

To those, on the other hand, who speak with a view to con- 
vince or to inform others, it is of consequence that the topics 
which they mean to illustrate, should be arranged in an order 
equally favorable to their own recollection and to that of their 
hearers. For this purpose, nothing is effectual but that method 
which is suggested by the order of their own investigations ; a 
method which leads the mind from one idea to another, either 
by means of obvious and striking associations, or by those rela- 
tions which connect the different steps of a clear and accurate 
process of reasoning. It is thus only that the attention of an 
audience can be completely and incessantly engaged, and that 
the substance of a long discourse can be remembered without 
effort. And it is thus only that a speaker, after a mature con- 
sideration of his subject, can possess a just confidence in his 
own powers of recollection, in stating all the different premises 
which lead to the conclusion he wishes to establish. 

Various kinds of artificial Memory. — In modern times, such 
27 



314 MEMORY. 

contrivances have been very little, if at atl, made use of by pub- 
lic speakers ; but various ingenious attempts have been made, 
to assist the Memory in acquiring and retaining those branches 
of knowledge which it has been supposed necessary for a 
scholar to carry always about with him ; and which, at the same 
time, from the number of particular details which they involve, 
are not calculated, of themselves, to make a very lasting im- 
pression on the mind. Of this sort is the Memoria Technica of 
Mr. Grey, in which a great deal of historical, chronological, 
and geographical knowledge is comprised in a set of verses, 
which the student is supposed to make as familiar to himself as 
school-boys do the rules of grammar. These verses are, in 
general, a mere assemblage of proper names, disposed in a rude 
sort of measure ; some slight alterations being occasionally 
made on the final syllables of the words, so as to be significant 
(according to certain principles laid down in the beginning of 
the work) of important dates, or of other particulars w T hich it 
appeared to the author useful to associate with the names. 

I have heard very opposite opinions with respect to the 
utility of this ingenious system. The prevailing opinion is, I 
believe, against it ; although it has been mentioned in terms of 
high approbation by some writers of eminence. Dr. Priestley, 
whose judgment, in matters of this sort, is certainly entitled to 
respect, has said, that " it is a method so easily learned, and 
which may be of so much use in recollecting dates, when other 
methods are not at hand, that he thinks all persons of a liberal 
education inexcusable, who will not take the small degree of 
pains that is necessary to make themselves masters of it ; or 
who think any thing mean, or unworthy of their notice, which 
is so useful and convenient." 

In judging of the utility of this, or of any other contrivance 
of the same kind, to a particular person, a great deal must de- 
pend on the species of Memory which he has received from 
nature, or has acquired in the course of his early education. 
Some men, as I already remarked, (especially among those who 
have been habitually exercised in childhood in getting by heart 
grammar rules,) have an extraordinary facility in acquiring* and 



MEMORY. 315 

retaining the most barbarous and the most insignificant verses ; 
which another person would find as difficult to remember, as the 
geographical and chronological details of which it is the object 
of this art to relieve the Memory. Allowing, therefore, the 
general utility of the art, no one method, perhaps, is entitled to 
an exclusive preference ; as one contrivance may be best suited 
to the faculties of one person, and a very different one to those 
of another. 

Objection to all expedients of this nature. — One important 
objection applies to all of them, that they accustom the mind to 
associate ideas by accidental and arbitrary connections; and, 
therefore, how much soever they may contribute, in the course 
of conversation, to an ostentatious display of acquired knowl- 
edge, they are, perhaps, of little real service to us, when we are 
seriously engaged in the pursuit of truth. I own, too, I am 
very doubtful with respect to the utility of a great part of that 
information which they are commonly employed to impress on 
the Memory, and on which the generality of learned men are 
disposed to value themselves. It certainly is of no use, but in 
so far as it is subservient to the gratification of their vanity ; 
and the acquisition of it consumes a great deal of time and 
attention, which might have been employed in extending the 
boundaries of human knowledge. To those, however, who are 
of a different opinion, such contrivances as Mr. Grey's may be 
extremely useful ; and to all men they may be of service, in 
fixing in the Memory those insulated and uninteresting particu- 
lars which it is either necessary for them to be acquainted with, 
from their situation, or which custom has rendered, in the com- 
mon opinion, essential branches of a liberal education. I would, 
in particular, recommend this author's method of recollecting 
dates, by substituting letters for the numeral cyphers ; and 
forming these letters into words, and the words into verses. I 
have found it, at least in my own case, the most effectual of all 
such contrivances of which I have had experience. 

VII. Importance of making a proper selection among the ob- 
jects of our knowledge, in order to derive advantage from the 
acquisitions of Memory. — The cultivation of Memory, with all 



316 MEMORY. 

the helps that we can derive to it from art, will be of little use 
to us, unless we make a proper selection of the particulars to 
be remembered. Such a selection is necessary to enable us to 
profit by reading ; and still more so, to enable us to profit by 
observation, to which every man is indebted for by far the most 
valuable part of his knowledge. 

When we first enter on any new literary pursuit, we com 
monly find our efforts of attention painful and unsatisfactory. 
We have no discrimination in our curiosity ; and by grasping at 
every thing, we fail in making those moderate acquisitions which 
are suited to our limited faculties. As our knowledge extends, 
we learn to know what particulars are likely to be of use to us ; 
and acquire a habit of directing our examination to these, with- 
out distracting the attention with others. It is partly owing to 
a similar circumstance, that most readers complain of a defect 
of Memory, when they first enter on the study of history. They 
cannot separate important from trifling facts, and find themselves 
unable to retain any thing, from their anxiety to secure the 
whole. 

How such a selection can best be made. — In order to give a 
proper direction to our attention in the course of our studies, it 
is useful, before engaging in particular pursuits, to acquire as 
familiar an acquaintance as possible with the great outlines of 
the different branches of science ; with the most important con- 
clusions which have hitherto been formed in them, and with the 
most important desiderata which remain to be supplied. In the 
case, too, of those parts of knowledge which are not yet ripe 
for the formation of philosophical systems, it may be of use to 
study the various hypothetical theories which have been pro- 
posed for connecting together and arranging the phenomena. 
By such general views alone, we can prevent ourselves from 
being lost amidst a labyrinth of particulars, or can engage in a 
course of extensive and various reading with an enlightened 
and discriminating attention. While they withdraw our notice 
from barren and insulated facts, they direct it to such as tend to 
illustrate principles which have either been already established, 
or which, from having that degree of connection among them- 



MEMORY. 317 

selves which is necessary to give plausibility to a hypothetical 
theory, are likely to furnish, in time, the materials of a juster 
system. 

The proper use of hypothetical theories. — Some of the follow- 
ers of Lord Bacon have, I think, been led, in their zeal for the 
method of induction, to censure hypothetical theories with too 
great a degree of severity. Such theories have certainly been 
frequently of use, in putting philosophers upon the road of dis- 
covery. Indeed, it has probably been in this way, that most 
discoveries have been made ; for although a knowledge of facts 
must be prior to the formation of a just theory, yet a hypotheti- 
cal theory is generally our best guide to the knowledge of useful 
facts. If a man, without forming to himself any conjecture 
concerning the unknown laws of nature, were to set himself 
merely to accumulate facts at random, he might, perhaps, stumble 
upon some important discovery ; but by far the greater part of 
his labors would be wholly useless. Every philosophical in- 
quirer, before he begins a set of experiments, has some general 
principle in his view, which he suspects to be a law of nature ; * 
and although his conjectures may be often wrong, yet they serve 
to give his inquiries a particular direction, and to bring under 
his eye a number of facts which have a certain relation to each 
other. It has been often remarked, that the attempts to discover 
the philosopher's stone, and the quadrature of the circle, have 
led to many useful discoveries in chemistry and mathematics. 
And they have plainly done so, merely by limiting the field of 
observation and inquiry, and checking that indiscriminate and 
desultory attention which is so natural to an indolent mind. A 



* * Recte siquidem Plato, ■ Qui aliquid quaerit, id ipsum, quod quaerit, 
general] quadam notione comprehendit : aliter, qui fieri potest, ut illud, 
cum fuerit inventum, agnoscat?' Idcirco quo amplior et certior fuerit 
anticipatio nostra, eo magis directa et eompendiosa erit investigation — 
[As Plato justly observes, 'He who is in search of any thing, has some 
general notion of what it is that he is seeking for ; otherwise, how should 
he recognize it when found V Therefore, according as our anticipation i3 
full and clear, so will our investigation be brief and direct.] — De Aug. 
Scient. lib. v. cap. 3. 

27* 



318 MEMORY. 

hypothetical theory, however erroneous, may answer a similar 
purpose. " Prudens interrogate," says Lord Bacon, " est dimid- 
ium sciential. Vaga enim experientia et se tantum sequens 
mera palpatio est, et homines potius stupefacit quam informat." 
[A wise conjecture is one half of knowledge. For experimental 
investigation made at random, and only following itself, is mere 
groping, and rather confounds than instructs men.] What, in- 
deed, are Newton's queries, but so many hypotheses which are 
proposed as subjects of examination to philosophers ? And did 
not even the great doctrine of gravitation take its first rise from 
a fortunate conjecture ? 

While, therefore, we maintain, with the followers of Bacon, 
that no theory is to be admitted as proved, any further than it 
is supported by facts, we should, at the same time, acknowledge 
our obligations to those writers who hazard their conjectures to 
the world with modesty and diffidence. And it may not be im- 
proper to add, that men of a systematizing turn are not now so 
useless as formerly ; for we are already possessed of a great 
stock of facts ; and there is scarcely any theory so bad, as not 
to bring together a number of particulars which have a certain 
degree of relation or analogy to each other. 

The foregoing remarks are applicable to all our various 
studies ; whether they are conducted in the way of reading, or 
of observation. From neither of these two sources of informa- 
tion can we hope to derive much advantage, unless we have 
some general principles to direct our attention to proper objects. 
What to observe. — With respect to observation, some further 
cautions may be useful ; for, in guarding against an indiscrimi- 
nate accumulation of particulars, it is possible to fall into the 
opposite extreme, and to acquire a habit of inattention to the 
phenomena which present themselves to our senses. The 
former is the error of men of little education ; the latter is 
more common among men of retirement and study. 

Danger of withdrawing the attention too much from particu- 
lars and details. — One of the chief effects of a liberal edu- 
cation, is, to enable us to withdraw the attention from the pres- 
ent objects of our perceptions, ani to dwell at pleasure on the 



MEMORY. 319 

past, the absent, or the future. But when we are led to cany 
these efforts to an excess, either from a warm and romantic 
imagination, or from anxious and sanguine temper, it is easy to 
see that the power of observation is likely to be weakened, and 
habits of inattention to be contracted. The same effect may be 
produced by too early an indulgence in philosophical pursuits, 
before the mind has been prepared for the study of general 
truths, by exercising its faculties among particular objects and 
particular occurrences. In this way, it contracts an aversion to 
the examination of details, from the pleasure which it has ex- 
perienced in the contemplation or in the discovery of general 
principles. Both of these turns of thought, however, pre- 
suppose a certain degree of observation ; for the materials of 
imagination are supplied by the senses ; and the general truths 
which occupy the philosopher, would be wholly unintelligible to 
him, if he was a total stranger to all experience with respect to 
the course of nature and of human life. The observations, in- 
deed, which are made by men of a warm imagination, are likely 
to be inaccurate and fallacious ; and those of the speculative 
philosopher are frequently carried no further than is necessary 
to enable him to comprehend the terms which relate to the sub- 
jects of his reasoning ; but both the one and the other must 
have looked abroad occasionally at nature, and at the world ; if 
not to ascertain facts by actual examination, at least to store 
their minds with ideas. 

The metaphysician, whose attention is directed to the faculties 
and operations of the mind, is the only man who possesses within 
himself the materials of his speculations and reasonings. It is 
accordingly, among this class of literary men, that habits of in- 
attention to things external have been carried to the greatest 
extreme. 

It is observed by Dr. Reid, that the power of reflection, (b\ 
which he means the power of attending to the subjects of our 
consciousness,) is the last of our intellectual faculties which un- 
folds itself; and that, in the greater part of mankind, it never 
unfolds itself at all. It is a power, indeed, which being sub- 
servient merely to the gratification of metaphysical curiosity, it 



320 MEMORY. 

is not essentially necessary for us to possess, in any consider- 
able degree. The power of observation, on the other hand, 
which is necessary. for the preservation even of our animal ex- 
istence, discovers itself in infants long before they attain the use 
of speech, or rather, I should have said, as soon as they come 
into the world ; and where nature is allowed free scope, it con- 
tinues active and vigorous through life. It was plainly the in- 
tention of nature, that in infancy and youth, it should occupy 
the mind almost exclusively, and that we should acquire, all our 
necessary information before engaging in speculations which 
are less essential ; and accordingly, this is the history of the in- 
tellectual progress, in by far the greater number of individuals. 
In consequence of this, the difficulty of metaphysical researches 
is undoubtedly much increased ; for the mind, being constantly 
occupied in the earlier part of life about the properties and laws 
of matter, acquires habits of inattention to the subjects of con- 
sciousness, which are not to be surmounted, without a degree of 
patience and perseverance of which few men are capable ; but 
the inconvenience would evidently have been greatly increased, 
if the order of nature had, in this respect, been reversed, and if 
the curiosity had been excited at as early a period, by the phe- 
nomena of the intellectual world, as by those of the material. 
Of what would have happened on this supposition, we may form 
a judgment from those men who, in consequence of an excessive 
indulgence in metaphysical pursuits, have weakened, to an un- 
natural degree, their capacity of attending to external objects 
and occurrences. Few metaphysicians, perhaps, are to be found, 
who are not deficient in the power of observation ; for, although 
a taste for such abstract speculations is far from being common, 
it is more apt, perhaps, than any other, when it has once been 
formed, to take an exclusive hold of the mind, and to shut up 
the other sources of intellectual improvement. As the meta- 
physician carries within himself the materials of his reasoning.-, 
he is not under a necessity of looking abroad for subjects of 
speculation or amusement; and unless he be very careful to 
guard against the effects of his favorite pursuits, he is in more 
danger than literary men of any other denomination, to lose all 



MEMORY. 821 

interest about the common and proper objects of human curi- 
osity. 

In education, the study of the mind should come last. — Tc 
prevent any danger from this quarter, I apprehend that the 
study of the mind should form the last branch of the education 
of youth ; an order which nature herself seems to point out, by 
what I have already remarked, with respect to the development 
of our faculties. After the understanding is well stored with 
particular facts, and has been conversant with particular scientific 
pursuits, it will be enabled to speculate concerning its own 
powers with additional advantage, and will run no hazard of 
indulging too far in such inquiries. Nothing can be more ab- 
surd, on this as well as on many other accounts, than the com- 
mon practice which is followed in our universities, of beginning 
a course of philosophical education with the study of logic. If 
this order were completely reversed ; and if the study of logic 
were delayed till after the mind of the student was well stored 
with particular facts in physics, in chemistry, in natural and 
civil history ; his attention might be led with the most important 
advantage, and without any danger to his power of observation, 
to an examination of his own faculties ; which, besides opening 
to him a new and pleasing field of speculation, would enable him 
to form an estimate of his own powers, of the acquisitions he 
has made, of the habits he has formed, and of the further im- 
provements of which his mind is susceptible. 

In general, wherever habits of inattention, and an incapacity 
of observation, are very remarkable, they will be found to have 
arisen from some defect in early education. I already remarked, 
that, when nature is allowed free scope, the curiosity, during 
early youth, is alive to every external object, and to every ex- 
ternal occurrence, while the powers of imagination and reflection 
do not display themselves till a much later period ; the former 
till about the age of puberty, and the latter till we approach to 
manhood. It sometimes, however, happens that, in consequence 
of a peculiar disposition of mind, or of an infirm bodily consti- 
tution, a child is led to seek amusement from books, and to lose 
a relish for those recreations which are suited to his age. In 



822 MEMORY. 

such instances, the ordinary progress of the intellectual powers 
is prematurely quickened ; but that best of all educations is lost 
which nature has prepared both for the philosopher and the man 
of the world, amidst the active sports and the hazardous adven- 
tures of childhood. It is from these alone, that we can acquire, 
not only that force of character which is suited to the more 
arduous situations of life, but that complete and prompt com- 
mand of attention to things external, without which, the highest 
endowments of the understanding, however they may fit a man 
for the solitary speculations of the closet, are but of little use in 
the practice of affairs, or for enabling him to profit by his per- 
sonal experience. 

How habits of inattention to details may be corrected. — Where, 
however, such habits of inattention have unfortunately been 
contracted, we ought not to despair of them as perfectly incu- 
rable. The attention, indeed, as I formerly remarked, can 
seldom be forced in particular instances ; but we may gradually 
learn to place the objects we wish to attend to, in lights more 
interesting than those in which we have been accustomed to 
view them. Much may be expected from a change of scene, 
and a change of pursuits ; but above all, much may be expected 
from foreign travel. The objects which we meet with excite 
our surprise by their novelty ; and in this manner, we not only 
gradually acquire the power of observing and examining them 
with attention, but, from the effects of contrast, the curiosity 
comes to be roused with respect to the corresponding objects in 
our own country, which, from our early familiarity with them, 
we had formerly been accustomed to overlook. In this respect, 
the effects of foreign travel, in directing the attention to familiar 
objects and occurrences, is somewhat analogous to that which 
the study of a dead or of a foreign language produces, in lead- 
ing the curiosity to examine the grammatical structure of our 
own. 

Considerable advantage may also be derived, in overcoming 
the habits of inattention, which we may have contracted to par- 
ticular subjects, from studying the systems, true or false, which 
philosophers have proposed for explaining or for arranging the 



MEMORY. 323 

facts connected with them. By means of these systems, not 
only is the curiosity circumscribed and directed, instead of being 
allowed to wander at random, but, in consequence of our being 
enabled to connect facts with general principles, it becomes 
interested in the examination of those particulars which would 
otherwise have escaped our notice. 

VIII. Of the connection between Memory and philosophical 
genius. — It is commonly supposed, that genius is seldom united 
with a very tenacious Memory. So far, however, as my own 
observation has reached, I can scarcely recollect one person 
who possesses the former of these qualities, without a more than 
ordinary share of the latter. 

On a superficial view of the subject, indeed, the common 
opinion has some appearance of truth ; for, we are naturally led, 
in consequence of the topics about which conversation is usually 
employed, to estimate the extent of Memory by the impression 
which trivial occurrences make upon it ; and these, in general, 
escape the recollection of a man of ability, not because he is 
unable to retain them, but because he does not attend to them. It 
is probable, likewise, that accidental associations, founded on 
contiguity in time and place, may make but a slight impression 
on his mind. But it does not, therefore, follow, that his stock 
of facts is small. They are connected together in his Memory 
by principles of association different from those which prevail 
in ordinary minds ; and they are, on that very account, the more 
useful ; for as the associations are founded upon real connec- 
tions among the ideas, (although they may be less conducive to 
the fluency, and perhaps to the wit, of conversation,) they are 
of incomparably greater use in suggesting -facts which are to 
serve as a foundation for reasoning or for invention. 

It frequently happens, too, that a man of genius, in conse- 
quence of a peculiarly strong attachment to a particular subject, 
may first feel a want of inclination, and may afterwards acquire 
a want of capacity, of attending to common occurrences. But 
it is probable, that the whole stock of ideas in his mind is not 
inferior to that of other men ; and that, however unprofitably he 
may have directed his curiosity, the ignorance which he dis- 



324 MEMORY. 

covers on ordinary subjects does not arise from a want of 
Memory, but from a peculiarity in the selection which he has 
made of the objects of his study. 

Montaigne frequently complains in his writings of his want 
of Memory ; and he indeed gives many very extraordinary 
instances of his ignorance on some of the most ordinary topics 
of information. But it is obvious to any person who reads his 
works with attention, that this ignorance did not proceed from 
an original defect of Memory, but from the singular and whim- 
sical direction which his curiosity had taken at an early period 
of life. " I can do nothing," says he, " without my memorandum- 
book ; and so great is my difficulty in remembering proper 
names, that I am forced to call my domestic servants by their 
offices. I am ignorant of the greater part of our coins in use ; 
of the difference of one grain from another, both in the earth 
and in the granary; what use leaven is of in making bread, and 
why wine must stand some time in the vat before it ferments." 
Yet the same author appears evidently, from his writings, to 
have had his Memory stored with an infinite variety of apoph- 
thegms, and of historical passages, which had struck his imagin- 
ation ; and to have been familiarly acquainted, not only with the 
names, but with the absurd and exploded opinions of the ancient 
philosophers ; with the ideas of Plato, the atoms of Epicurus, 
the plenum and vacuum of Leucippus and Democritus, the water 
of Thales, the numbers of Pythagoras, the infinite of Parmen- 
ides, and the unity of Musaeus. In complaining, too, of his 
want of presence of mind, he indirectly acknowledges a degree 
of Memory, which, if it had been judiciously employed, would 
have been more than sufficient for the acquisition of all those 
common branches of knowledge, in which he appears to have 
been deficient. " When I have an oration to speak," says he, 
" of any considerable length, I am reduced to the miserable 
necessity of getting it, word for word, by heart." 

The strange and apparently inconsistent combination of 
knowledge and ignorance which the writings of Montaigne ex- 
hibit, led Malebranche, (who seems to have formed too low an 
opinion both of his genius and character,) to tax him with af- 



MEMORY. 325 

fectation ; and even to call in question the credibility of some 
of his assertions. But no one who is well acquainted with this 
most amusing author, can reasonably suspect his veracity ; and, 
in the present instance, I can give him complete credit, not only 
from my general opinion of his sincerity, but from having ob- 
served, in the course of my own experience, more than one ex- 
ample of the same sort of combination ; not, indeed, carried to 
such a length as Montaigne describes, but bearing a striking 
resemblance to it. 

The observations which have already been made, account, in 
part, for the origin of the common opinion, that genius and 
Memory are seldom united in great degrees in the same person ; 
and at the same time show, that some of the facts on which that 
opinion is founded do not justify such a conclusion. Besides 
these, however, there are other circumstances, which, at first 
view, seem rather to indicate an inconsistency between exten- 
sive Memory and original genius. 

What kind of Memory is possessed by the philosopher. — The 
species of Memory which excites the greatest degree of ad- 
miration in the ordinary intercourse of society, is a Memory for 
detached and insulated facts ; and it is certain that those men 
who are possessed of it are very seldom distinguished by the 
higher gifts of the mind. Such a species of Memory is un- 
favorable to philosophical arrangement ; because it in part sup- 
plies the place of arrangement. One great use of philosophy, 
as I already showed, is to give us an extensive command of 
particular truths, by furnishing us with general principles, under 
which a number of such truths is comprehended. A person in 
whose mind casual associations of time and place make a lasting 
impression, has not the same inducements to philosophize, with 
others, who connect facts together chiefly by the relations of 
cause and effect, or of premises and conclusion. I have heard 
it observed, that those men who have risen to the greatest emi- 
nence in the profession of law, have been, in general, such as 
had at first an aversion to the study. The reason probably is, 
that to a mind fond of general principles, every study must be 

28 



326 MEMORY. 

at first disgusting, which presents to it a chaos of facts appar- 
ently unconnected with each other. But this love of arrange- 
ment, if united with persevering industry, will at last conquer 
every difficulty ; will introduce order into what seemed, on a 
superficial view, a mass of confusion, and reduce the dry and 
uninteresting detail of positive statutes into a system com- 
paratively luminous and beautiful. 

The observation, I believe, may be made more general, and 
may be applied to every science in which there is a great multi- 
plicity of facts to be remembered. A man ^festitute of genius 
may, with little effort, treasure up in his memory a number of 
particulars in chemistry or natural history, which he refers to 
no principle, and from which he deduces no conclusion ; and 
from his facility in acquiring this stock of information, may 
flatter himself with the belief that he possesses a natural taste 
for ihese branches of knowledge. But they who are really 
destined to extend the boundaries of science, when they first 
enter on new pursuits, feel their attention distracted, and their 
Memory overloaded, with facts among which they can trace no 
relation, and are sometimes apt to despair entirely of their fu- 
ture progress. In due time, however, their superiority appears, 
and arises in part from that very dissatisfaction which they at 
first experienced, and which does not cease to stimulate their 
inquiries, till they are enabled to trace, amidst a chaos of ap- 
parently unconnected materials, that simplicity and beauty 
which always characterize the operations of nature. 

Inconveniences experienced by men of genius. — There are, 
besides, other circumstances which retard the progress of a man 
of genius, when he enters on a new pursuit, and which some- 
times render him apparently inferior to those who are possessed 
of ordinary capacity. A want of curiosity and of invention 
facilitates greatly the acquisition of knowledge. It renders the 
mind passive in receiving the ideas of others, and saves all the 
time which might be employed in examining their foundation, 
or in tracing their consequences. They who are possessed of 
much acuteness and originality, enter with difficulty into the 



MEMORY. 327 

views of others ; not from any defect in their power of appre- 
hension, but because they cannot adopt opinions which they 
have not examined ; and because their attention is often se- 
duced by their own speculations. 

It is not merely in the acquisition of knowledge, that a man 
of genius is likely to find himself surpassed by others ; he has 
commonly his information much less at command, than those 
who are possessed of an inferior degree of originality ; and, 
what is somewhat remarkable, he has it least of all at command 
on those subjects on which he has found his invention most fer- 
tile. Sir Isaac Newton, as we are told by Dr. Pemberton, was 
often at a loss, when the conversation turned on his own discov- 
eries. It is probable that they made but a slight impression on 
his mind, and that a consciousness of his inventive powers pre- 
vented him from taking much pains to treasure them up in his 
Memory. Men of little ingeijuity seldom forget the ideas they 
acquire ; because they know, that, when an occasion occurs for 
applying their knowledge to use, they must trust to Memory and 
not to invention. Explain an arithmetical rule to a person of 
common understanding, who is unacquainted with the principles 
of the science ; he will soon get the rule by heart, and become 
dexterous in the application of it. Another, of more ingenuity, 
will examine the principle of the rule before he applies it to 
use, and will scarcely take the trouble to commit to Memory a 
process which he knows he can, at any time, with a little re- 
flection, recover. The consequence will be, that, in the practice 
of calculation, he will appear more slow and hesitating, than if 
he followed the received rules of arithmetic without reflection 
or reasoning. 

Prompt recollection may be mistaken for readiness of appre- 
hension. — Something of the same kind happens every day in 
conversation. By far the greater part of the opinions we an 
nounce in it, are not the immediate result of reasoning on the 
spot, but have been previously formed in the closet, or, perhaps, 
have been adopted implicitly on the authority of others. The 
promptitude, therefore, with which a man decides in ordinary 
discourse, is not a certain test of the quickness of his appre* 



328 MEMORY. 

hension ; * as it may, perhaps, arise from those uncommon 
efforts to furnish the Memory with acquired knowledge, by 
which men of slow parts endeavor to compensate for their want 
of invention ; while, on the other hand, it is possible that a 
consciousness of originality may give rise to a manner appar- 
ently embarrassed, by leading the person who feels it, to trust 
too much to extempore exertions.f 

What kind of Memory rarely accompanies original genius. — 
In general, I believe, it may be laid down as a rule, that those 
who carry about with them a great degree of acquired infor- 
mation, which they have always at command, or who have ren- 
dered their own discoveries so familiar to them, as always to be 
in a condition to explain them, without recollection, are very 
seldom possessed of much invention, or even of much quickness 
of apprehension. A man of original genius, who is fond of 
exercising his reasoning powers anew on every point as it occurs 
to him, and who cannot submit to rehearse the ideas of others, 
or to repeat by rote the conclusions which he has deduced from 
previous reflection, often appears, to superficial observers, to fall 
below the level of ordinary understandings ; while another, 
destitute both of quickness and invention, is admired for that 
promptitude in his decisions, which arises from the inferiority of 
his intellectual abilities. 

It must, indeed, be acknowledged in favor of the last descrip- 



* " Meraoria facit prompti ingenii famam, ut ilia quae dicimus, non domo 
attulisse, sed ibi protinus sumpsisse videamur." [A good Memory gives 
one a reputation for quickness of intellect ; for what we say appears not 
to have been brought with us from home, but to be struck out upon the 
spot.} — Quinct. Inst. Orat. lib. xi. c. 2. 

t In the foregoing observations, it is not meant to be implied, that 
originality of genius is incompatible with a ready recollection of acquired 
knowledge ; but only that it has a tendency unfavorable to it, and that more 
time and practice will commonly be necessary to familiarize the mind 
of a man of invention to the ideas of others, or even to the conclusions of 
his own understanding, than are requisite in ordinary cases. Habits of 
literary conversation, and still more, habits of extempore discussion in a 
popular assembly, are peculiarly useful in giving us a readj and practical 
command of our knowledge. 



MEMORY. 329 

tion of men, that in ordinary conversation, they form the most 
agreeable, and, perhaps, the most instructive companions. How 
inexhaustible soever the invention of an individual may be, the 
variety of his own peculiar ideas can bear no proportion to the 
whole mass of useful and curious information of which the 
world is already possessed. The conversation, accordingly, of 
men of genius, is sometimes extremely limited ; and is inter- 
esting to the few alone, who know the value, and who can dis- 
tinguish the marks, of originality. In consequence, too, of that 
partiality which every man feels for his own speculations, they 
are more in danger of being dogmatical and disputatious, than 
those who have no system which they are interested to defend. 
The same observations may be applied to authors. A book 
which contains the discoveries of one individual only, may be 
admired by a few, who are intimately acquainted with the his- 
tory of the science to which it relates, but it has little chance 
for popularity with the multitude. An author who possesses 
industry sufficient to collect the ideas of others, and judgment 
sufficient to arrange them skilfully, is the most likely person to 
acquire a high degree of literary fame ; and although, in the 
opinion of enlightened judges, invention forms the chief charac- 
teristic of genius, yet it commonly happens, that the objects of 
public admiration are men who are much less distinguished by 
this quality, than by extensive learning and cultivated taste. 
Perhaps, too, for the multitude, the latter class of authors is the 
most useful ; as their writings contain the more solid discoveries 
which others have brought to light, separated from those errors 
with which truth is often blended in the first formation of a 
system. 

28* 



830 IMAGINATION. 



CHAPTER VIL 



OF IMAGINATION. 



I. Analysis of Imagination. — In attempting to draw the 
line between conception and imagination, I have already ob- 
served, that the province of the former is to present us with an 
exact transcript of what we have formerly felt and perceived; 
that of the latter, to make a selection of qualities and of circum- 
stances from a variety of different objects, and by combining and 
disposing these, to form a new creation of its own. 

According to the definitions adopted in general by modern 
philosophers, the province of imagination would appear to be 
limited to objects of sight. " It is the sense of sight," says Mr. 
Addison, " which furnishes the imagination with its ideas ; so 
that, by the pleasures of imagination, I here mean such as arise 
from visible objects, either when we have them actually in view, 
or when we call up their ideas into our minds by paintings, 
statues, descriptions, or any the like occasions. We cannot, in- 
deed, have a single image in the fancy, that did not make its 
first entrance through the sight." Agreeably to the same view 
of the subject, Dr. Reid observes, that " imagination properly 
signifies a lively conception of objects of sight; the former 
power being distinguished from the latter, as a part from the 
whole." 

Imagination not limited to objects of sight. — That this limit- 
ation of the province of imagination to one particular class of 
our perceptions is altogether arbitrary, seems to me to be evi- 
dent ; for, although the greater part of the materials which 
imagination combines be supplied by this sense, it is neverthe- 
less indisputable, that our other perceptive faculties also con- 
tribute occasionally their share. How many pleasing images 



IMAGINATION. 831 

have been borrowed from the fragrance of the fields and the mel- 
ody of the groves ; not to mention that sister art, whose magical 
influence over the human frame it has been, in all ages, the 
highest boast of poetry to celebrate ! In the following passage, 
even the more gross sensations of taste form the subject of an 
ideal repast, on which it is impossible not to dwell with some 
complacency, particularly after a perusal of the preceding lines, 
in which the poet describes " the wonders of the torrid zone." 

" Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves ; 
To where the lemon and the piercing lime, 
With the deep orange, glowing thro' the green, 
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined 
Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, 
Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit : 
Or, stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, 
O let me drain the cocoa's milky bowl, 
More bounteous far than all the frantic juice 
Which Bacchus pours ! Nor, on its slender twigs 
Low bending, be the full pomegranate scorn'd ; 
Nor, creeping thro' the Avoods, the gelid race 
Of berries. Oft in humbler station dwells 
Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. 
Witness thou, best Anana, thou the pride 
Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er 
The poets imaged in the golden age : 
Quick let me strip thee of thy spiny coat, 
Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove ! " 

Thomson. 

What an assemblage of other conceptions, different from all 
those hitherto mentioned, has the genius of Virgil combined in 
one distich ! 

Hie gelidi fontes, hie mollia prata, Lycori, 
Hi< ncmus : hie ipso tecum consumerer aevo. 

Imagination not limited even to the sensible world. — These 
observations are sufficient to show how inadequate a notion 
of the province of imagination (considered even in j,ts reference 
to the sensible world) is conveyed by the definitions of Mr. 
Addison and of Dr. Reid. But the sensible world, it must be 
remembered, is not the only field where imagination exerts her 



332 IMAGINATION. 

powers. All the objects of human knowledge supply materials 
to her forming hand ; diversifying infinitely the works she pro- 
duces, while the mode of her operation remains essentially uni- 
form. As it is the same power of reasoning which enables us 
to carry on our investigations with respect to individual objects, 
and with respect to classes or genera ; so it was by the same 
processes of analysis and combination, that the genius of Milton 
produced the garden of Eden, that of Harrington, the common- 
wealth of Oceana, and that of Shakspeare, the characters of 
Hamlet and Falstajf. The difference between these several 
efforts of invention, consists only in the manner in which the 
original materials were acquired ; as far as the power of imagi- 
nation is concerned, the processes are perfectly analogous. 

But imaginations of visible objects are most pleasing. — The 
attempts of Mr. Addison and of Dr. Reid to limit the province 
of imagination to objects of sight, have plainly proceeded from 
a very important fact, which it may be worth while to illustrate 
more particularly. That the mind has a greater facility, and 
of consequence, a greater delight, in recalling the perceptions 
of this sense than those of any of the others ; while at the same 
time, the varieties of qualities perceived by it is incomparably 
greater. It is this sense, accordingly, which supplies the painter, 
and the statuary with all the subjects on which their genius is 
exercised, and which furnishes to the descriptive poet the 
largest and the most valuable portion of the materials which he 
combines. In that absurd species of prose composition, too, 
which borders on poetry, nothing is more remarkable than the 
predominance of phrases that recall to the memory glaring 
colors, and those splendid appearances of nature which make a 
strong impression on the eye. It has been mentioned by dif- 
ferent writers, as a characteristical circumstance in the Oriental 
or Asiaitc style, that the greater part of the metaphors are 
taken from the celestial luminaries. " The works of the Per- 
sians," says M. de Voltaire, "are like the titles of their kings, 
in which we are perpetually dazzled with the sun and the 
moon." Sir William Jones, in a short Essay on the Poetry of 
Eastern Nations, has endeavored to show, that this is not owing 






IMAGINATION. 333 

to the bad taste of the Asiatics, but to the old language and 
popular religion of their country. But the truth is, that the 
very same criticism will be found to apply to the juvenile pro- 
ductions of every author possessed of a warm imagination, and 
to the compositions of every people among whom a cultivated 
and philosophical taste has not established a sufficiently marked 
distinction between the appropriate styles of poetry and of 
prose. 

Agreeably to these principles, Gray, in describing the infan- 
tine reveries of poetical genius, has fixed, with exquisite judg- 
ment, on this class of our conceptions : — 

" Yet oft before his infant eye would run 
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray 
With orient hues " 

From these remarks, it may be easily understood, why the 
word imagination, in its most ordinary acceptation, should be 
applied to cases where our conceptions are derived from the 
sense of sight ; although the province of this power be, in fact, 
as unlimited as the sphere of human enjoyment and of human 
thought. Hence the origin of those partial definitions which I 
have been attempting to correct; and hence, too, the origin 
of the word imagination; the etymology of which implies 
manifestly a reference to visible objects. 

To all the various modes in which imagination may display 
itself, the greater part of the remarks contained in this chapter 
will be found to apply, under proper limitations ; but, in order 
to render the subject more obvious to the reader's examination, 
I shall, in the further prosecution of it, endeavor to convey my 
ideas rather by means of particular examples, than in the form 
of general principles ; leaving it to his own judgment to deter- 
mine, with what modifications the conclusions to which we are 
led may be extended to other combinations of circumstances. 

Among the innumerable phenomena which this part of our 
constitution presents to our examination, the combinations which 
the mind forms out of materials supplied by the power of concep- 
tion recommend themselves strongly, both by their simplicity, 



334 IMAGINATION. 

and by the interesting nature of the discussions to which they 
lead. I shall avail myself, therefore, as much as possible, in 
the following inquiries, of whatever illustrations I am able to 
borrow from the arts of poetry and of painting ; the operations 
of imagination in these arts furnishing the most intelligible and 
pleasing exemplifications of the intellectual processes, by which, 
in those analogous but less palpable instances that fall under the 
consideration of the moralist, the mind deviates from the models 
presented to it by experience, and forms to itself new and un- 
tried objects of pursuit. It is in consequence of such processes, 
(which, how little soever they may be attended to, are habitually 
passing in the thoughts of all men,) that human affairs exhibit 
so busy and so various a scene ; tending, in one case, to im- 
provement, and, in another, to decline ; according as our notions 
of excellence and of happiness are just or erroneous. 

What powers of the mind are included in imagination. — It 
was observed in a former part of this work, that imagination is 
a complex power. It includes conception or simple apprehension, 
which enables us to form a notion of those former objects of per- 
ception or of knowledge, out of which we are to make a selec- 
tion ; abstraction, which separates the selected materials from 
the qualities and circumstances which are connected with them 
in nature ; and judgment or taste, which selects the materials, 
and directs their combination. To these powers, we may add, 
that particular habit of association to which I formerly gave the 
name of fancy ; as it is this which presents to our choice all 
the different materials which are subservient to the efforts of 
imagination, and which may, therefore, be considered as forming 
the groundwork of poetical genius.* 



* [Stewart's analysis of imagination, as far as it goes, agrees with that 
of Cousin ; but the latter writer adds, that a lively sensibility to the emotions 
of taste is also an essential element in the exercise of the imaginative 
faculty. After enumerating, as Stewart has done, conception, (or the image- 
forming memory, as Cousin calls it,) abstraction, and judgment in forming 
new combinations, as powers included under this faculty, he asks, " But 
is not imagination something more than these ? If a man should remem- 
ber all the images of the past, and should unite to this great memory a 



IMAGINATION. 335 

To illustrate these observations, let us consider the steps by 
which Milton must have proceeded in creating his imaginary 
garden of Eden. When he first proposed to himself that sub- 
ject of description, it is reasonable to suppose, that a variety of 
the most striking scenes which he had seen crowded into his 
mind. The association of ideas suggested them, and the power 
of conception placed each of them before him, with all its beau- 
power of voluntary abstraction, and a choice among all the materials of 
his experience, would he, therefore, be endowed with the creative faculty 1 
I think not. The philosophers from whom I borrow this theory seem to 
me to have omitted one of the main elements which make up the function 
of imagination: this is, the judgment and the feeling of the beautiful, — 
the pure love which ought to aid the work of the intellect and the mem- 
ory, and to infuse its own warmth into both of them. To remember, to 
abstract, and to combine, is not to have imagination ; if it were so, the 
cool mathematician, who goes on from one deduction to another, and from 
one theorem to another, ought to be considered an artist. Whether my 
memory calls up spontaneously objects with their forms, or whether, 
by the force of my will, I call them up myself, and when these images 
are evoked, though I have the power of abstracting them, and combining 
them anew, — in all this, I see nothing but memory and reason. But is 
it with reason and memory alone, that you will make a Michael Angelo 
or a Raphael ? Would it be enough for Corneille to remember the his- 
torical facts, and to combine them artistically, in order to make his tragedy 
of the Horatii? Besides a great memory and a powerful intellect, there 
was needed for these great men a measure of enthusiasm, of love — not 
that vulgar love which depends on physical sensibility — but the pure and 
disinterested love which we have denominated the sentiment of the 
beautiful. . . . Men are very nearly equal to each other in respect to 
memory, reason, and will ; but they possess in very unequal degrees the 
power of imagination ; because some of them remain cold and unaffected 
in presence of the objects, cold in the remembrance of them, cold in their 
abstractions and combinations ; while others, deeply touched at the sight 
of beauty, preserve, through the operations of memory and the voluntary 
combination of images, the same vivacity of emotion, the same warmth of 
sentiment." — Du Vrai, du Beau, et da Bien. 

On the other hand, Sir William Hamilton, in remarking on the doctrine 
of the incompatibility of creative imagination and philosophical talent, as 
held by Hume, Kant, and Reid, says, " There is required, however, for the 
metaphysician, not less imagination than for the poet, though of a different 
kind ; it may, in fact, be doubted whether Horr.er or Aristotle pos sessed 
this facultv in greater vijror." — Notes t« Reid.] 



336 IMAGINATION. 

ties and imperfections. In every natural scene, if we destine it 
for any particular purpose, there are defects and redundancies, 
which art may sometimes, but cannot always, correct. But the 
power of imagination is unlimited. She can create and annihi- 
late, and dispose, at pleasure, her woods, her rocks, and her 
rivers. Milton, accordingly, would not copy his Eden from any 
one scene, but would select from each the features which were 
most eminently beautiful. The power of abstraction enabled 
him to make the separation, and taste directed him in the selec- 
tion. Thus he was furnished with his materials ; by a skilful 
combination of which, he has created a landscape, more perfect, 
probably, in all its parts, than was ever realized in nature ; and 
certainly very different from any thing which this country ex- 
hibited at the period when he wrote. It is a curious remark of 
Mr. Walpole, that Milton's Eden is free from the defects of the 
old English garden, and is imagined on the same principles 
which it was reserved for the present age to carry into execu- 
tion. 

From what has been said, it . is sufficiently evident, that 
imagination is not a simple power of the mind, like attention, 
conception, or abstraction ; but that it is formed by a combina- 
tion of various faculties. It is further evident, that it must ap- 
pear under very different forms, in the case of different individ- 
uals ; as some of its component parts are liable to be greatly 
influenced by habit, and other accidental circumstances. The 
variety, for example, of the materials out of which the combina- 
tions of Jhe poet or the painter are formed, will depend much 
on the tendency of external situation to store the mind with a 
multiplicity of conceptions ; and the beauty of these combina- 
tions will depend entirely on the success with which the power 
of taste has been cultivated. What we call, therefore, the 
power of imagination, is not the gift of nature, hut the result of 
acquired habits, aided by favorable circumstances. It is not an 
original endowment of the mind, but an accomplishment formed 
by experience and situation ; and which, in its different grada- 
tions, fills up all the interval between the first efforts of untu- 
tored genius, and the sublime creations of Raphael or of Milton. 



IMAGINATION. ool 

An uncommon degree of imagination constitutes poetical 
genius ; a talent which, although chiefly displayed in poetical 
composition, is also the foundation (though not precisely in the 
same manner) of various other arts. A few remarks on the 
relation which imagination bears to some of the most interesting 
of these, will throw additional light on its nature and office. 

II. Of imagination considered in its relation to some of the 
fine arts. — Among the arts connected with imagination, some 
not only take their rise from this power, but produce objects 
which are addressed to it. Others take their rise from imagina- 
tion, but produce objects which are addressed to the power of 
perception. 

(1.) Landscape gardening. — To the latter of these two 
classes of arts belongs that of gardening ; or, as it has been 
lately called, the art of creating landscape. In this art, the 
designer is limited in his creation by nature ; and his only prov- 
ince is to correct, to improve, and to adorn. As he cannot 
repeat his experiments, in order to observe the effect, he must 
call up, in his imagination, the scene which he means to pro- 
duce ; and apply to his imaginary scene his taste and his judg- 
ment ; or, in other words, to a lively conception of visible ob- 
jects, he must add a power (which long experience and attentive 
observation alone can give him) of judging beforehand, of the 
effect which they would produce, if they were actually exhibited 
to his senses. This power forms what Lord Chatham beauti- 
fully and expressively called the prophetic eye of Taste ; that 
eye which (if I may borrow the language of Mr. Gray) " sees 
all the beauties that a place is susceptible of, long before they 
are born ; and when it plants a seedling, already sits under the 
bhade of it, and enjoys the effect it will have from every point 
of view that lies in the prospect." But although the artist who 
creates a landscape copies it from his imagination, the scene 
which he exhibits is addressed to the senses, and may produce its 
full effect on the minds of others, without any effort on their 
part, either of imagination or of conception. 

To prevent being misunderstood, it is necessary for me to re- 
mark, that, in the last observation, I speak merely of the natural 

29 



338 IMAGINATION. 

effects produced by a landscape, and abstract entirely from the 
pleasure which may result from an accidental association of 
ideas with a particular scene. The effect resulting from such 
associations will depend, in a great measure, on the liveliness 
with which the associated objects are conceived, and on the 
affecting nature of the pictures which a creative imagination, 
when once roused, will present to the mind ; but the pleasures 
thus arising from the accidental exercise that a landscape may 
give to the imagination, must not be confounded with those 
which it is naturally fitted to produce. 

(2.) Painting. — In painting, (excepting in those instances in 
which it exhibits a faithful copy of a particular object,) the 
original idea must be formed in the imagination ; and, in most 
cases, the exercise of imagination must concur with perception, 
before the picture can produce that effect on the mind of the 
spectator which the artist has in view. Painting, therefore, does 
not belong entirely to either of the two classes of arts formerly 
mentioned, but has something in common with them both. 

As far as the painter aims at copying exactly what he sees, 
he may be guided mechanically by general rules; and he requires 
no aid from that creative genius which is characteristical of the 
poet. The pleasure, however, which results from painting, con- 
sidered merely as an imitative art, is extremely trifling ; and is 
specifically different from that which it aims to produce by 
awaking the imagination. Even in portrait-painting, the servile 
copyist of nature is regarded in no higher light than that of a 
tradesman. " Deception," as Reynolds has excellently observed, 
•' instead of advancing the art, is, in reality carrying it back to 
its infant state. The first essays of painting were certainly 
nothing but mere imitations of individual objects ; and when this 
amounted to a deception, the artist had accomplished his pur 
pose." 

When the history or the landscape painter indulges his genius 
in forming new combinations of his own, he vies with the poet 
in the noblest exertion of the poetical art ; and he avails him- 
self of his professional skill, as the poet avails himself of lan- 
guage, only to convey the ideas in his mind. To deceive the 



IMAGINATION. 339 

eye by accurate representations of particular forms, is no longer 
his aim ; but, by the touches of an expressive pencil, to speak 
to the imaginations of others. Imitation, therefore, is not the 
end which he proposes to himself, but the means which he em- 
ploys in order to accomplish it ; nay, if the imitation be carried 
so far as to preclude all exercise of the spectator's imagination, 
it will disappoint, in a great measure, the purpose of the artist. 
(3.) Poetry. — In poetry, and in every other species of com- 
position, in which one person attempts, by means of language, 
to present to the mind of another the objects of his own imagina- 
tion, this power is necessary, though not in the same degree, to 
the author and to the reader. When we peruse a description, 
we naturally feel a disposition to form, in our own minds, a dis- 
tinct picture of what is described ; and in proportion to the 
attention and interest which the subject excites, the picture 
becomes steady and determinate. It is scarcely possible for us 
to hear much of a particular town without forming some notion 
of its figure and size and situation ; and in reading history and 
poetry, I believe it seldom happens that we do not annex imagi- 
nary appearances to the names of our favorite characters. It 
is, at the same time, almost certain, that the imaginations of no 
two men coincide upon such occasions ; and, therefore, though 
both may be pleased, the agreeable impressions which they feel, 
may be widely different from each other, according as the pir 
tures by which they are produced are more or less happily 
imagined. Hence it is, that when a person accustomed to 
dramatic reading sees, for the first time, one of his favorite 
characters represented on the stage, he is generally dissatisfied 
with the exhibition, however eminent the actor may be ; and if 
he should happen, before this representation, to have been very 
familiarly acquainted with the character, the case may continue 
to be the same through life. For my own part, I have never 
received from any Falstaff on the stage half the pleasure which 
Shakspeare gives me in the closet ; and I am persuaded that I 
should feel some degree of uneasiness, if I were present at any 
attempt to personate the figure or the voice of Don Quixote or 
Sancho Panza. It is not always that the actor, on such occa- 



340 IMAGINATION. 

sions, falls short of our expectation. He disappoints us, by 
exhibiting something different from what our imagination had 
anticipated, and which consequently appears to us, at the mo- 
ment, to be an unfaithful representation of the poet's idea ; and 
until a frequent repetition of the performance has completely 
obliterated our former impressions, it is impossible for us to form 
an adequate estimate of its merit. 

Similar observations may be applied to other subjects. The 
sight of any natural scene, or of any work of art, provided we 
have not previously heard of it, commonly produces a greater 
effect at first, than ever afterwards : but if, in consequence of a 
description, we have been led to form a previous notion of it, I 
apprehend, the effect will be found less pleasing the first time 
it is seen, than the second. Although the description should 
fall short greatly of the reality, yet the disappointment which 
we feel, on meeting with something different from what we ex- 
pected, diminishes our satisfaction. The second time we see 
the scene, the effect of novelty is, indeed, less than before ; but 
it is still considerable, and the imagination now anticipates 
nothing which is not realized in the perception. 

Why -poetry is not so generally relished as landscape garden- 
ing. — The remarks which have been made, afford a satisfactory 
reason why so few are to be found who have a genuine relish 
for the beauties of poetry. The designs of Kent and of Brown 
[distinguished landscape gardeners] evince in their authors a 
degree of imagination entirely analogous to that of the descrip- 
tive poet; but when they are once executed, their beauties 
(excepting those which result from association) meet the eye of 
every spectator. In poetry, the effect is inconsiderable, unless 
upon a mind which possesses some degree of the author's gen- 
ius ; a mind amply furnished, by its previous habits, with the 
means of interpreting the language which he employs; and 
able, by its own imagination, to cooperate with the efforts of his 
art. 

Different ideas raised by the same words in different minds. — 
It has been often remarked, that the general words which ex- 
press complex ideas, seldom convey precisely the same meaning 



IMAGINATION. 34l 

to different individuals, and that hence arises much of the ambi- 
guity of language. The same observation holds, in no inconsid- 
erable degree, with respect to the names of sensible objects. 
When the words river, mountain, grove, occur in a description, 
a person of lively conceptions naturally thinks of some particu- 
lar river, mountain, and grove, that have made an impression 
on his mind ; and whatever the notions are, which he is led by 
his imagination to form of these objects, they must necessarily 
approach to the standard of what he has seen. Hence it is evi- 
dent that, according to the different habits and education of in- 
dividuals, according to the liveliness of their conceptions, and 
according to the creative power of their imaginations, the same 
words will produce very different effects on different minds. 
When a person who has received his education in the country, 
reads a description of a rural retirement, the house, the river, 
the woods, to which he was first accustomed, present themselves 
spontaneously to his conception, accompanied, perhaps, with the 
recollection of his early friendships, and all those pleasing ideas 
which are commonly associated with the scenes of childhood 
and of youth. How different is the effect of the description 
upon his mind, from what it would produce on one who has 
passed his tender years at a distance from the beauties of na- 
ture, and whose infant sports are connected in his memory with 
the gloomy alleys of a commercial city ! 

But it is not only in interpreting the particular words of a 
description, that the powers of imagination and conception are 
employed. They are further necessary for filling up the differ- 
ent parts of that picture, of which the most minute describer can 
only trace the outline. In the best description, there is much 
left to the reader to supply ; and the effect which it produces on 
his mind will depend, in a considerable degree, on the invention 
and taste with which the picture is finished. It is therefore 
possible, on the one hand, that the happiest efforts of poetical 
genius may be perused with perfect indifference by a man of 
sound judgment, and not destitute of natural sensibility ; and on 
the other hand, that a cold and common-place description may 

29* 



342 IMAGINATION. 

be the means of awakening, in a rich and glowing imagination, 
a degree of enthusiasm unknown to the author. 

The object of all the fine arts is to please. — All the different 
arts, which I have hitherto mentioned as taking their rise from 
the imagination, have this in common, that their primary object 
is to please. This observation applies to the art of poetry, no 
less than to the others ; nay, it is this circumstance which char- 
acterizes poetry, and distinguishes it from all the other classes 
of literary composition. The object of the philosopher is to in- 
form and enlighten mankind ; that of the orator, to acquire an 
ascendant over the will of others, by bending to his own. pur- 
poses their judgments, their imaginations, and their passions : 
but the primary and the distinguishing aim of the poet is, to 
please ; and the principal resource which he possesses for this 
purpose, is by addressing the imagination. Sometimes, indeed, 
he may seem to encroach on the province of the philosopher or 
of the orator ; but, in these instances, he only borrows from 
them the means by which he accomplishes his end. If he at- 
tempts to enlighten and to inform, he addresses the understand- 
ing only as a vehicle of pleasure ; if he makes an appeal to the 
passions, it is only to passions which it is pleasing to indulge. 
The philosopher, in like manner, in order to accomplish his end 
of instruction, may find it expedient, occasionally, to amuse the 
imagination, or to make an appeal to the passions ; the orator 
may, at one time, state to his hearers a process of reasoning ; at 
another, a calm narrative of facts ; and at a third, he may give 
the reins to poetical fancy. But still the ultimate end of the 
philosopher is to instruct, and of the author to persuade ; and 
whatever means they make use of which are not subservient to 
this purpose, are out of place, and obstruct the effect of their 
labors. 

Why rhythmical language is employed. — The measured com- 
position in which the poet expresses himself, is only one of the 
means which he employs to please. As the delight which he 
conveys to the imagination is heightened by the other agreeable 
impressions, which he can unite in the mind at the same lime ; 



M AGINATION. 313 

he studies to bestow, upon the medium of communication which 
he employs, all the various beauties of which it is susceptible. 
Among these beauties, the harmony of numbers is not the least 
powerful ; for its effect is constant, and does not interfere with 
any of the other pleasures which language produces. A suc- 
cession of agreeable perceptions is kept up by the organical 
effect of words upon the ear ; while they inform the understand- 
ing by their perspicuity and precision, or please the imagination 
by the pictures they suggest, or touch the heart by the associa- 
tions they awaken. Of all these charms of language the poet 
may avail himself; and they are all so many instruments of his 
art. To the philosopher and the orator, they may occasionally 
be of use ; and to both, they must be constantly so far an object 
of attention, that nothing may occur in their compositions, which 
may distract the thoughts, by offending either the ear or the 
taste ; but the poet must not rest satisfied with this negative 
praise. Pleasure is the end of his art ; and the more numerous 
the sources of it which he can open, the greater will be the effect 
produced by the efforts of his genius. 

Poetry has a wider range than the other fine arts. — The prov- 
ince of the poet is limited only by the variety of human enjoy- 
ments. Whatever is, in the reality, subservient to our happiness, 
is a source of pleasure when presented to our conceptions, and 
may sometimes derive from the heightenings of imagination a 
momentary charm, which we exchange with reluctance for the 
substantial gratification of the senses. The province of the 
painter and of the statuary is confined to the imitation of visible 
objects, and to the exhibition of such intellectual and moral 
qualities, as the human body is fitted to express. In ornamen- 
tal architecture, and in ornamental gardening, the sole aim of 
the artist is to give pleasure to the eye, by the beauty or sub- 
limity of material forms. But to the poet, all the glories of ex- 
ternal nature; all that is. amiable, or interesting, or respectable 
in human character; all that excites and engages our benevo- 
lent affections ; all those truths which make the heart feel itself 
better and more happy; — all these s*upply materials, out of which 
he forms and peoples a world of his own, where no incouve u- 



344 IMAGINATION. 

iences damp our enjoyments, and where no clouds darken our 
prospects. 

Edmund Burke's theory of poetry stated and controverted. — 
That the pleasures of poetry arise chiefly from the agreeable 
feelings which it conveys to the mind, by awakening the imag- 
ination, is a proposition which may seem too obvious to stand 
in need of proof. As the ingenious inquirer, however, into 
"the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful," [Ed- 
mund Burke,] has disputed the common notions on this subject, 
I shall consider some of the principal arguments by which he 
has supported his opinion. 

The leading principle of the theory which I am now to ex- 
amine is, " That the common effect of poetry is not to raise ideas 
of things ;" or, as I would rather choose to express it, its com- 
mon effect is not to give exercise to the powers of conception 
and imagination. That I may not be accused of misrepresen- 
tation, I shall state the doctrine at length in the words of the 
author. " If words have all their possible extent of power, 
three effects arise in the mind of the hearer. The first is the 
sound, the second, the picture or representation of the thing sig- 
nified by the sound, the third is, the affection of the soul pro- 
duced by one or by both of the foregoing. Compounded ab- 
stract words, {honor, justice, liberty, and the like,) produce the 
first and the last of these effects, but not the second. Simple 
abstracts are used to signify some one simple idea, without much 
adverting to others which may chance to attend it; as blue, 
green, hot, cold, and the like : these are capable of affecting all 
three of the purposes of words ; as the aggregate words, man, 
castle, horse, etc. are, in a yet higher degree. But I am of opin- 
ion, that the most general effect even of these words does not 
arise from their forming pictures of the general things they 
would represent in the imagination ; because, on a very diligent 
examination of my own mind, and getting others to consider 
theirs, I do not find that, once in twenty times, any such picture 
is formed ; and when it is, there is most commonly a particular 
effort of the imagination for that purpose. But the aggregate 
words operate, as I said of the compound abstracts, not by pre- 



IMAGINATION. 3-15 

renting any image to the mind, but by having, from use, the 
same effect on being mentioned, that their original has when it 
is seen. Suppose we were to read a passage to this effect : 
' The river Danube rises in a moist and mountainous soil in the 
heart of Germany, where, winding to and fro, it waters several 
principalities, until, turning into Austria, and leaving the walls 
of Vienna, it passes into Hungary ; there, with a vast flood, aug- 
mented by the Saave and the Drave, it quits Christendom, and, 
rolling through the barbarous countries which border on Tar- 
iary, it enters by many mouths into the Black Sea.' In this de- 
scription, many things are mentioned ; as mountains, rivers, cit- 
ies, the sea, etc. But let anybody examine himself, and see 
whether he has had impressed on his imagination any pictures 
of a river, mountain, watery soil, Germany, etc. Indeed, it is 
impossible, in the rapidity and quick succession of words in con- 
versation, to have ideas both of the sound of the word, and of 
the thing represented ; besides, some words expressing real es- 
sences are so mixed with others of a general and nominal im- 
port, that it is impracticable to jump from sense to thought, from 
particulars to generals, from things to words, in such a manner 
as to answer the purposes of life ; nor is it necessary that we 
should." 

In further confirmation of this doctrine, Mr. Burke refers to 
the poetical works of the late amiable and ingenious Dr. Black- 
lock [the blind poet]. "Here" says he, "is a poet, doubtless as 
much affected by his own descriptions as any that reads them can 
be ; and yet he is affected with this strong enthusiasm, by things 
of which he neither has, nor can possibly have, any idea, further 
than that of a bare sound ; and why may not those who read 
his works be affected in the same manner that he was, with as 
little of any real ideas of the things described?" 

Some words do not raise ideas, but only excite emotions. — Be- 
fore I proceed to make any remarks on these passages, I must 
observe in general, that I perfectly agree with Mr. Burke, in 
thinking that a very great proportion of the words which we 
habitually employ, have no effect to raise ideas in the mind ; or 
to exercise the powers of conception and imagination. My no- 



846 IMAGINATION. 

tions on this si/bject I have already sufficiently explained in 
treating of abstraction. 

I agree with him further, that a great proportion of the words 
which are used in poetry and eloquence, more especially, I think, 
in the latter, produce very powerful effects on the mind, by ex- 
citing emotions which we have been accustomed to associate 
with particular sounds, without leading the imagination to form 
to itself any pictures or representations ; and his account of the 
manner in which such words operate, appears to me satisfactory. 
" Such words are, in reality, but mere sounds ; but they are 
sounds, which, being used on particular occasions, wherein we 
receive some good, or suffer some evil ; or see others affected 
with good or evil ; or which we hear applied to other interesting 
things or events ; and being applied in such a variety of cases 
that we know readily by habit to what things they belong, they 
produce in the mind, whenever they are afterwards mentioned, 
effects similar to those of their occasions. The sounds being 
often used without reference to any particular occasion, and 
carrying still their first impressions, they at last utterly lose 
their connection with the particular occasions that gave rise to 
them ; yet the sound, without any annexed notion, continues to 
operate as before." 

But words in poetry must raise emotions and ideas also. — 
Notwithstanding, however, these concessions, I cannot admit that 
it is in this way poetry produces its principal effect. Whence 
is it that general and abstract expressions are so tame and life- 
less, in comparison of those which are particular and figurative ? 
Is it not because the former do not give any exercise to the im- 
agination, like the latter? Whence the distinction, acknowl- 
edged by all critics ancient and modern, between that charm of 
words which evaporates in the process of translation, and those 
permanent beauties, which, presenting to the mind the distinct- 
ness of a picture, may impart pleasure to the most remote re- 
gions and ages ? Is it not, that in the one case, the poet ad- 
dresses himself to associations which are local and temporary •, 
in the other, to these essential principles of human nature, from 
which poetry and painting derive their common attractions? 



IMAGINATION. 347 

Hence, among the various sources of the sublime, the peculiar 
stress laid by Longinus on what he calls Visions, ((pavraalai) — 
orav a teyvc vrf hdovciacfiov nal nu&ovc \j%ettuv (Jo/vf/f, mi itf btyiv Ti&rjs 
role ukovgcv, [when you seem, from enthusiasm and strong feeling, 
actually to see the things spoken of, and to place them before 
the eyes of your hearers.] 

Different aims of philosophical and rhetorical composition. — 
In treating of abstraction, I formerly remarked, that the perfec- 
tion of philosophical style is to approach as nearly as possible 
to that species of language we employ in algebra, and to exclude 
every expression which has a tendency to divert the attention by 
exciting the imagination, or to bias the judgment by casual 
associations. For this purpose, the philosopher ought to be 
sparing in the employment of figurative words, and to convey 
his notions by general terms which have been accurately defined. 
To the orator, on the other hand, when he wishes to prevent the 
cool exercise of the understanding, it may, on the same account, 
be frequently useful to delight or to agitate his hearers, by 
blending with his reasonings the illusions of poetry, or the magi- 
cal influence of sounds consecrated by popular feelings. A 
regard to the different ends thus aimed at in philosophical and 
in rhetorical composition, renders the ornaments which are so 
becoming in the one, inconsistent with good taste and good sense 
when adopted in the other. 

In poetry, as truths and facts are introduced, not for the pur- 
pose of information, but to convey pleasure to the mind, nothing 
offends more, than those general expressions which form the 
great instrument of philosophical reasoning. The original 
pleasures, which it is the aim of poetry to recall to the mind, 
are all derived from individual objects ; and, of consequence, 
(with a very few exceptions, which it does not belong to my 
present subject to enumerate,) the more particular and the more 
appropriated its language is, the greater will be the charm it pos- 
sesses. 

With respect to the description of the course of the Danube 
already quoted, I shall not dispute the result of the experiment 
to be as the author represents it. That words may often be 



348 IMAGINATION. 

applied to their proper purposes, without our annexing any 
particular notions to them, I have formerly shown at great 
length ; and I admit that the meaning of this description may 
be so understood. But to be understood is not the sole object 
of the poet ; his primary object is to please ; and the pleasure 
which he conveys will, in general, be found to be proportioned 
to the beauty and liveliness of the images which he suggests. 
In the case of a poet born blind, the effect of poetry must 
depend on other causes ; but whatever opinion we may form on 
this point, it appears to me impossible that such a poet should 
receive, even from his own descriptions, the sam£ degree of 
pleasure which they may convey to a reader who is capable of 
conceiving the scenes which are described. Indeed, this instance 
which Mr. Burke produces in support of his theory, is sufficient 
of itself to show, that the theory cannot be true in the extent in 
which it is stated. 

Great effect of picturesque phraseology in poetry. — By way 
of contrast to the description of the Danube, I shall quote a 
stanza from Gray, which affords a very beautiful example of 
the two different effects of poetical expression. The pleasure 
conveyed by the two last lines resolves almost entirely into Mr. 
Burke's principles ; but great as this pleasure is, how inconsider- 
able is it, in comparison of that arising from the continued and 
varied exercise which the preceding lines give to the imagina- 
tion. 

" In climes beyond the solar road, 
Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, 
The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom, 
To cheer the shiv'ring native's dull abode. 
And oft, beneath the od'rous shade 
Of Chili's boundless forests laid, 
She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat. 
In loose numbers wildly sweet, 
Their feather-cinctur'd chiefs and dusky loves. 
Her track, where'er the goddess roves, 
Glory pursue, and generous shame, 
Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame." 

I cannot help remarking further, the effect of the solemn and 



IMAGINATION. 549 

uniform flow of the verse in this exquisite stanza, in retarding 
the pronunciation of the reader, so as to arrest his attention to 
every successive picture, till it has time to produce its proper 
impression. More of the charm of poetical rhythm arises from 
this circumstance, than is commonly imagined. 

To those who wish to study the theory of poetical expression, 
no author in our language affords a richer variety of illustra- 
tions than the poet last quoted. His merits, in many other 
respects, are great ; but his skill in this particular is more 
peculiarly conspicuous. How much he had made the principles 
of this branch of his art an object of study, appears from his 
letters published by Mr. Mason. 

I have sometimes thought, that, in the last line of the follow- 
ing passage, he had in view the two different effects of words 
already described ; the effect of some, in awakening the powers 
of conception and imagination ; and that of others, in exciting 
associated emotions : — 

" Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 
Bright-ey'd Fancy, hovering o'er, 
Scatters from her pictur'd urn 
Thoughts that hreathe, and words that burn." 

III. Relation of imagination and of taste to genius. — From 
the remarks made in the foregoing sections, it is obvious, in what 
manner a person accustomed to analyze and combine his con- 
ceptions, may acquire an idea of beauties superior to any 
which he has seen realized. It may also be easily inferred, that 
a habit of forming such intellectual combinations, and of remark- 
ing their effects on our own minds, must contribute to refine and 
to exalt the taste, to a degree which it never can attain in those 
men, who study to improve it by the observation and comparison 
of external objects only. 

What constitutes genius in the fine arts. — A cultivated taste, 
combined with a creative imagination, constitutes genius in the 
fine arts. Without taste, imagination could produce only a 
random analysis and combination of our conceptions ; and with- 
out imagination, taste would be destitute of the faculty of 
invention. These two ingredients of genius may be mixed 

30 



350 IMAGINATION. 

together in all possible proportions; and where either is pos- 
sessed in a degree remarkably exceeding what falls to the 
ordinary share of mankind, it may compensate, in some measure, 
for a deficiency in the other. An uncommonly correct taste, 
with little imagination, if it does not produce works which excite 
admiration, produces at least nothing which can offend. An 
Uncommon fertility of imagination, even when it offends, excites 
our wonder by its creative power ; and shows what it could 
have- performed, had its exertions been guided by a more perfect 
model. 

In the infancy of the arts, a union of these two powers in the 
same mind is necessary for the production of every work of 
genius. Taste, without imagination, is, in such a situation, im- 
possible ; for, as there are no monuments of ancient genius on 
which it can be formed, it must be the result of experiments, 
which nothing but the imagination of every individual can enable 
him to make. Such a taste must necessarily be imperfect, in 
consequence of the limited experience of which it is the result ; 
but, without imagination, it could not have been acquired even 
in this imperfect degree. 

In the progress of the arts, the case comes to be altered. 
The productions of genius accumulate to such an extent, that 
taste may be formed by a careful study of the works of others ; 
and, as formerly imagination had served as a necessary founda- 
tion for taste, so taste begins now to invade the province of 
imagination. The combinations which the latter faculty has 
been employed in making, during a long succession of ages, 
approach to infinity; and present such ample materials to a 
judicious selection, that, with a high standard of excellence 
continually present to the thoughts, industry, assisted by the 
most moderate degree of imagination, will, in time, produce per- 
formances not only more free from faults, but incomparably 
more powerful in their effects, than the most original efforts of 
untutored genius, which, guided by an uncultivated taste, copies 
after an inferior model of perfection. What Reynolds observes 
of painting, may be applied to all the other fine arts ; that " as 
the painter, by bringing together, in one piece, those beauties, 






IMAGINATION. 351 

which are dispersed amongst a great variety of individuals, pro- 
duces a figure more beautiful than can be found in nature; so 
that artist who can unite in himself the excellences of the various 
painters, will approach nearer to perfection than any of his 
masters." 

IV. Of the influence of imagination on human character and 
happiness. — Hitherto we have considered the power of imagi- 
nation chiefly as it is connected with the fine arts. But it 
deserves our attention still more, on account of its extensive 
influence on human character and happiness. 

The lower animals, as far as we are able to judge, are 
entirely occupied with the objects of their present perceptions ; 
and the case is nearly the same with the inferior orders of our 
own species. One of the principal effects which a liberal edu- 
cation produces on the mind, is, to accustom us to withdraw our 
attention from the objects of sense, and to direct it at pleasure 
to those intellectual combinations which delight the imagination. 
Even, however, among men of cultivated understandings, this 
faculty is possessed in very unequal degrees by different indi- 
viduals ; and these differences (whether resulting from original 
constitution or from early education) lay the foundation of some 
striking varieties in human character. 

Sensibility dependent on imagination. — What we commonly 
call sensibility depends in a great measure on the power of 
imagination. Point out to two men any object of compassion ; — 
a man, for example, reduced by misfortune from easy circum- 
stances to indigence. The one feels merely in proportion to 
what he perceives by his senses. The other follows, in imagi- 
nation, the unfortunate man to his dwelling, and partakes with 
him and his family in their domestic distresses. He listens to 
their conversation, while they recall to remembrance the flatter- 
ing prospects they once indulged ; the circle of friends they 
had been forced to leave ; the liberal plans of education which 
were begun and interrupted ; and pictures out to himself all the 
various resources which delicacy and pride suggest to conceal 
poverty from the world. As he proceeds in the painting, his 



352 IMAGINATION. 

sensibility increases, and he weeps, not for what he sees, but for 
what he imagines. It will be said that it was his sensibility 
which originally roused his imagination ; and the observation is 
undoubtedly true ; but it is equally evident, on the other hand, 
that the warmth of his imagination increases and prolongs tiis 
sensibility. 

This is beautifully illustrated in the Sentimental Journey of 
Sterne. While engaged in a train of reflections on the state- 
prisons in France, the accidental sight of a starling in a cage 
suggests to him the idea of a captive in his dungeon. He in- 
dulges his imagination, " and looks through the twilight of the 
grated door to take the picture." 

" I beheld," says he, " his body half wasted away with long 
expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of 
the heart it is, which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking 
nearer, I saw him pale and feverish : in thirty years, the western 
breeze had not once fanned his blood : he had seen no sun, no 
moon, in all that time, nor had the voice of friend or kinsman 
breathed through his lattice. His children — But here my 
heart began to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another 
part of the portrait. 

" He was sitting upon the ground, in the furthest corner of 
his dungeon, on a little straw, which was alternately his chair 
and bed : a little calendar of small sticks was laid at the head, 
notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed 
there ; he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a 
rusty nail, was etching another day of misery to add to the heap. 
As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless 
eye towards the door, then cast it down, shook his head, and 
went on with his work of affliction." 

Why pity is excited by fiction more than by reality. — The 
foregoing observations may account, in part, for the effect which 
exhibitions of fictitious distress produce on some persons, who 
do not discover much sensibility to the distresses of real life. 
In a novel or a tragedy, the picture is completely finished in all 
its parts ; and we are made acquainted not only with every cir- 



s 



IMAGINATION. 353 

jumstance on which the distress turns, but with the sentiments 
and feelings of every character, with respect to his situation. 
In real life, we see, in general, only detached scenes of the trag- 
edy; and the impression is slight unless imagination finishes 
the characters, and supplies the incidents that are wanting. 

Imagination increases our sympathy with others. — It is not 
only to scenes of distress that imagination increases our sensi- 
bility. It gives us a double share in the prosperity of others, 
and enables us to partake with a more lively interest in every 
fortunate incident that occurs either to individuals or to commu- 
nities. Even from the productions of the earth and the vicissi- 
tudes of the year, it carries forward our thoughts to the enjoy- 
ments they bring to the sensitive creation, and by interesting 
our benevolent affections in the scenes we behold, lends a new 
charm to the beauties of nature. 

I have often been inclined to think, that the apparent coldness 
and selfishness of mankind may be traced, in a great measure, 
to a want of attention and a want of imagination. In the case 
of misfortunes which happen to ourselves, or to our near con- 
nections, neither of these powers is necessary to make us ac- 
quainted with our situation : so that we feel, of necessity, the 
correspondent emotions. But without an uncommon degree of 
both, it is impossible for any man to comprehend completely the 
situation of his neighbor, or to have an idea of a great part of 
the distress which exists in the world. If we feel, therefore, 
more for ourselves than for others, the difference is to be as- 
cribed, at least partly, to this ; that, in the former case, the 
facts which are the foundation of our feelings, are more fully 
before us than they possibly can be in the latter. 

In order to prevent misapprehensions of my meaning, it is 
necessary for me to add, that I do not mean to deny that it is a 
law of our nature, in cases in which there is an interference be- 
tween our own interest and that of other men, to give a certain 
degree of preference to ourselves ; even supposing our neigh- 
bor's situation to be as completely known to us as our own. I 
only affirm, that, where this preference becomes blamable and 
unjust, the effect is to be accounted for partly in the way I men- 

30* 



3iU IMAGINATION. 

tioned.* One striking proof of this is, the powerful emotion 
which may be occasionally excited in the minds of the most cal- 
lous, when the attention has been once fixed, and the imagina- 
tion awakened by eloquent, and circumstantial, and pathetic de- 
scription. 

Adam Smith traces the sense of justice to a regard for the 
opinion of others. — A very amiable and profound moralist, in 
the account which he has given of the origin of our sense of 
justice, has, I think, drawn a less pleasing picture of the natural 
constitution of the human mind, than is agreeable to truth. " To 
disturb," says he, " the happiness of our neighbor, merely be- 
cause it stands in the way of our own ; to take from him what 
is of real use to him, merely because it may be of equal or of 
more use to us ; or, to indulge, in this manner, at the expense 
of other people, the natural preference which every man has for 
his own happiness above that of other people, is what no impar- 
tial spectator can go along with. Every man is, no doubt, first 
and principally recommended to his own care ; and as he is 
fitter to take care of himself than of any other person, it is fit 
and right that it should be so. Every man, therefore, is much 
more deeply interested in whatever immediately concerns him- 
self, than in what concerns any other man ; and to hear, per- 
haps, of the death of another person with whom we have no 
particular connection, will give us less concern, will spoil our 
stomach, or break our rest, much less than a very insignificant 
disaster which has befallen ourselves. But though the ruin of 
our neighbor may affect us much less than a very small misfor- 
tune of our own, we must not ruin him to prevent that small 
misfortune, nor even to prevent our own ruin. We must here, 
as in all other cases, view ourselves not so much according to that 
light in which we may naturally appear to ourselves, as according 
to that in which we naturally appear to others. Though every 
man may, according to the proverb, be the whole world to him 
self, to the rest of mankind he is a most insignificant part of it 



* I say partly ; for habits of inattention to the situation of other men, 
undoubtedly presuppose some defect in the social affections. 



IMAGINATION. 355 

Though his own happiness may be of more importance to him 
than that of all the world besides, to every other person it is of 
no more consequence than that of any other man. Though it 
may be true, therefore, that every individual, in his own breast, 
naturally prefers himself to all mankind, yet he dares not look 
mankind in the face, and avow that he acts according to this 
principle. He feels that, in this preference, they can never go 
along with him, and that, how natural soever it may be to him, 
it must always appear excessive and extravagant to them. 
When he views himself in the light in which he is conscious 
that others will view him, he sees that, to them, he is but one of 
the multitude, in no respect better than any other in it. If he 
would act so as that the impartial spectator may enter into the 
principles of his conduct, which is what of all things he has the 
greatest desire to do, he must, upon this, as upon all other occa- 
sions, humble the arrogance of his self-love, and bring it down 
to something which other men can go along with." 

This theory controverted ; benevolent feeling independent of the 
opinion of others. — I am ready to acknowledge, that there is 
much truth in this passage; and that a prudential regard to the 
opinion of others, might teach a man of good sense, without the 
aid of more amiable motives, to conceal his unreasonable par- 
tialities in favor of himself, and to act agreeably to what he con- 
ceives to be the sentiments of impartial spectators. But I can- 
not help thinking, that the fact is much too strongly stated with 
respect to the natural partiality of self-love, supposing the situa- 
tion of our neighbors to be as completely presented to our view, 
as our own must of necessity be. When the orator wishes to 
combat the selfish passions of his audience, and to rouse then? 
to a sense of what they owe to mankind, what mode of per- 
suasion does nature dictate to him ? Is it, to remind them of the 
importance of the good opinion of the world, and of the neces- 
sity, in order to obtain it, of accommodating their conduct to 
the sentiments of others, rather than to their own feelings? 
Such considerations undoubtedly might, with some men, produce 
a certain effect ; and might lead them to assume the appearance 



35 6 IMAGINATION. 

of virtue ; but they would never excite a sentiment of indigna- 
tion at the thought of injustice, or a sudden and involuntary 
burst of disinterested affection. If the orator can only succeed 
in fixing their attention to facts, and in bringing these facts 
home to their imagination by the power of his eloquence, he has 
completely attained his object. No sooner are the facts appre- 
hended, than the benevolent principles of our nature display 
themselves in all their beauty. The most cautious and timid 
lose, for a moment, all thought of themselves, and despising 
every consideration of prudence or of safety, become wholly en- 
grossed with the fortunes of others. 

Many other facts, which are commonly alleged as proofs of 
the original selfishness of mankind, may be explained, in part, 
in a similar way ; and may be traced to habits of inattention, or 
to a want of imagination, arising, probably, from some fault in 
early education. 

What has now been remarked with respect to the social prin- 
ciples, may be applied to all our other passions, excepting those 
which take their rise from the body. They are commonly strong 
in proportion to the warmth and vigor of the imagination. 

Unexercised imaginations, when once roused, become ungovern- 
able. — It is, however, extremely curious, that when an imagi- 
nation, which is naturally phlegmatic, or which, like those of the 
vulgar, has little activity from a want of culture, is fairly roused 
by the descriptions of the orator or the poet, it is more apt to 
produce the violence of enthusiasm, than in minds of a superior 
order. By giving this faculty occasional exercise, we acquire a 
great degree of command over it. As we can withdraw the 
attention at pleasure from objects of sense, and transport our- 
selves into a world of our own, so, when we wish to moderate 
our enthusiasm, we can dismiss the objects of imagination, and 
return to our ordinary perceptions and occupations. But in a 
mind to which these intellectual visions are not familiar, and 
which borrows them completely from the genius of another, im- 
agination, when once excited, becomes perfectly ungovernable, 
and produces something like a temporary insanity. Hence the 



IMAGINATION. 357 

wonderful effects of popular eloquence on the lower orders ; 
effects which are much more remarkable than what it ever pro- 
duces on men of education.* 

V. Inconveniences resulting from an ill-regulated imagination. 
— It was undoubtedly the intention of nature, that the objects 
of perception should produce much stronger impressions on the 
mind than its own operations. And, accordingly, they always 
do so, when proper care has been taken in early life to exercise 
the different principles of our constitution. But it is possible, 
by long habits of solitary reflection, to reverse this order of 
things, and to weaken the attention to sensible objects to so 
great a degree, as to leave the conduct almost wholly under the 
influence of imagination. Removed to a distance from society, 
and from the pursuits of life, when we have long been accus- 
tomed to converse with our own thoughts, and have found our 
activity gratified by intellectual exertions, which afford scope to 
all our powers and affections, without exposing us to the incon- 
veniences resulting from the bustle of the world, we are apt to 
contract an unnatural predilection for meditation, and to lose ail 
interest in external occurrences. In such a situation, too, the 
mind gradually loses that command which education, when 
properly conducted, gives it over the train of its ideas, till at 
length, the most extravagant dreams of imagination acquire as 
powerful an influence in exciting all its passions, as if they were 
realities. A wild and mountainous country, which presents but 
a limited variety of objects, and these only of such a sort as 
" awake to solemn thought," has a remarkable effect in cherish- 
ing this enthusiasm. 

Remedies for a disordered imagination. — When such disor- 
ders of the imagination have been long confirmed by habit, the 
evil may, perhaps, be beyond a remedy ; but in their inferior 

* " The province of eloquence is to reign over minds of slow perception 
and little imagination ; to set things in lights they never saw them in ; to 
engage their attention by details and circumstances gradually unfolded ; 
to adorn and heighten them with images and colors unknown to them ; 
and to raise and engage their rude passions to the point to which the 
6peaker wishes to bring them." — Gray's Letters, p. 394. 



358 IMA G 1 NATION. 

degrees, much may be expected from our own efforts ; in par- 
ticular, from mingling gradually in the business and amusements 
of the world ; or, if we have sufficient force of mind for the 
exertion, from resolutely plunging into those active and interest- 
ing and hazardous scenes, which, by compelling us to attend to 
external circumstances, may weaken the impressions of imagina- 
tion, and strengthen those produced by realities. The advice 
of the poet, in these cases, is equally beautiful and just : — 

" Go, soft enthusiast ! quit the cypress groves, 
Nor to the rivulet's lonely moanings tune 
Your sad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful haunts 
Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd ; 
Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the wish 
Of nobler minds, and push them night and day. 
Or join the caravan in quest of scenes 
New to your eyes, and shifting every ^our, 
Beyond the Alps, beyond the Apennines. 
Or, more adventurous, rush into the field 
Where war grows hot ; and raging through the sky, 
The lofty trumpet swells the madd'ning soul ; 
And in the hardy camp and toilsome march, 
Forget all softer and less manly cares." 

Armstrong. 

Connection between genius and melancholy. — The disordered 
state of mind to which these observations refer, is the more inter- 
esting, that it is chiefly incident to men of uncommon sensibility 
and genius. It has been often remarked, that there is a connection 
between genius and melancholy ; and there is one sense of the 
word melancholy, in which the remark is undoubtedly true ; a 
sense which it may be difficult to define, but in which it implies 
nothing either gloomy or malevolent. This, I think, is not only 
confirmed by facts, but may be inferred from some principles 
Which were formerly stated on the subject of invention ; for as 
the disposition now alluded to has a tendency to retard the cur- 
rent of thought, and to collect the attention of the mind, it is 
peculiarly favorable to the discovery of those profound conclu- 
sions which result from an accurate examination of the less 
obvious relations among our ideas. From the same principles, 
too, may be traced some of the effects which situation and early 



IMAGINATION. o.~)9 

education produce on the intellectual character. Among the 
natives of wild and solitary countries, we may expect to meet 
with sublime exertions of poetical imagination and of philo- 
sophical research ; while those men whose attention has been 
dissipated from infancy amidst the bustle of the world, and 
whose current of thought has been trained to yield and accommo- 
date itself, every moment, to the rapid succession of trifles, 
which diversify fashionable life, acquire, without any effort on 
their part, the intellectual habits which are favorable to gayety, 
vivacity, and wit. 

Very imaginative persons may appear almost insane. — When 
a man, under the habitual influence of a warm imagination, is 
obliged to mingle occasionally in scenes of real business, he is 
perpetually in danger of being misled by his own enthusiasm. 
What we call good sense in the conduct of life, consists chiefly 
in that temper of mind which enables its possessor to view, at 
all times, with perfect coolness and accuracy, all the various cir- 
cumstances of his situation, so that each of them may produce 
its due impression on him, without any exaggeration arising from 
its own peculiar habits. But to a man of an ill-regulated 
imagination, external circumstances only serve as hints to excite 
his own thoughts, and the conduct he pursues has, in general, far 
less reference to his real situation, than to some imaginary ow . 
in which he conceives himself to be placed ; in consequence oi 
which, while he appears to himself to be acting with the most 
perfect wisdom and consistency, he may frequently exhibit to 
others all the appearances of folly. Such, pretty nearly, seems 
to be the idea which the author (Madame de Stael Holstein) of 
the " Reflections on the Character and Writings of Rousseau," 
has formed of that extraordinary man. " His faculties," we are 
told, " were slow in their operation, but his heart was ardent ; it 
was in consequence of his own meditations that he became im- 
passioned ; he discovered no sudden emotions, but all his feelings 
grew upon reflection. It has, perhaps, happened to him to fall 
in love gradually with a woman, by dwelling on the idea of her 
during her absence. Sometimes he would part with you with 
all his former affection ; but if an expression had escaped you, 



360 IMAGINATION. 

which might bear an unfavorable construction, he would recol- 
lect it, examine it, exaggerate it, perhaps dwell upon it for a 
month, and conclude by a total breach with you. Hence it was 
that there was scarce a possibility of undeceiving him ; for the 
light which broke in upon him at once was not sufficient to 
efface the wrong impressions which had taken place so gradually 
in his mind. It was extremely difficult, too, to continue long 
on an intimate footing with him. A word, a gesture, furnished 
him with matter of profound meditation ; he connected the most 
trifling circumstances like so many mathematical propositions, 
and conceived his conclusions to be supported by the evidence 
of demonstration." " I believe," continues this ingenious writer, 
" that imagination was the strongest of his faculties, and that it 
had almost absorbed all the rest. He dreamed rather than 
existed, and the events of his life might be said, more properly 
to have passed in his mind, than without him ; a mode of being, 
one should have thought, that ought to have secured him from 
distrust, as it prevented him from observation ; but the truth 
was, it did not hinder him from attempting to observe ; it only 
rendered his observations erroneous. That his soul was tender, 
no one can doubt, after having read his works ; but his imagina- 
tion sometimes interposed between his reason and his affections, 
and destroyed their influence: he appeared sometimes void of 
sensibility ; but it was because he did not perceive objects such 
as they were. Had he seen them with our eyes, his heart 
would have been more affected than ours." 

In this very striking description, we see the melancholy picture 
of sensibility and genius approaching to insanity. It is a case, 
probably, that but rarely occurs in the extent here described ; 
but, I believe, there is no man who has lived much in the world, 
who will not trace many resembling features to it, in the circle 
of his own acquaintances ; perhaps there are few who have not 
been occasionally conscious of some resemblance to it in them- 
selves. 

Mistakes in judgment resulting from an ill-regulated imagina- 
tion. — To these observations we may add, that, by an excessive 
indulgence in the pleasures of imagination, the taste may acquire 



IMAGINATION. 361 

a fastidious refinement, unsuitable to the present situation of 
human nature ; and those intellectual and moral habits, which 
ought to be formed by actual experience of the world, may be 
gradually so accommodated to the dreams of poetry and romance, 
as to disqualify us for the scene in which \v r e are destined to act. 
Such a distempered state of the mind is an endless source of 
error; more particularly when we are placed in those critical 
situations, in which our conduct determines our future happiness 
or misery ; and which, on account of this extensive influence 
on human life, form the principal groundwork of fictitious com- 
position. The effect of novels, in misleading the passions of 
youth, with respect to the most interesting and important of all 
relations, is one of the many instances of the inconveniences 
resulting from an ill-regulated imagination. - 

The passion of love has been in every age the favorite sub- 
ject of the poets, and has given birth to the finest productions 
of human genius. These are the natural delight of the young 
and susceptible, long before the influence of the passions is felt ; 
and from these a romantic mind forms to itself an ideal model 
of beauty and perfection, and becomes enamored with its own 
creation. On a heart which has been long accustomed to be 
thus warmed by the imagination, the excellences of real charac- 
ters make but a slight impression ; and, accordingly, it will be 
found, that men of a romantic turn, unless when under the in- 
fluence of violent passions, are seldom attached to a particular 
object. Where, indeed, such a turn is united with a warmth 
of temperament, the effects are different; but they are equally 
fatal to happiness. As the distinctions which exist among real 
characters are confounded by false and exaggerated conceptions 
of ideal perfection, the choice is directed to some object by 
caprice and accident ; a slight resemblance is mistaken for an 
exact coincidence ; and the descriptions of the poet and novelist 
are applied literally to an individual, who perhaps falls short of 
the common standard of excellence. " I am certain," says the 
author. last quoted, in her account of the character of Rousseau, 
" that he never formed an attachment which was not founded on 
caprice. It was illusions alone that could captivate his pa.-- 

81 



362 IMAGINATION. 

sions ; and it was necessary for him always to accomplish his 
mistress from his own fancy. I am certain, also," she addo, 
" that the woman whom he loved the most, and perhaps the only 
woman whom he loved constantly, was his own Julie" 

In the case of this particular passion, the effects of a romantic 
imagination are obvious to the most careless observer ; and they 
have often led moralists to regret, that a temper of mind so 
dangerous to happiness should have received so much encourage- 
ment from some writers of our own age, who might have em- 
ployed their genius to better purposes. These, however, are 
not the only effects which such habits of study have on the 
character. Some others, which are not so apparent at first view, 
have a tendency, not only to mislead us where our own happi- 
ness is at stake, but to defeat the operation of those active prin- 
ciples, which were intended to unite us to society. The manner 
in which imagination influences the mind, in the instances which 
I allude to at present, is curious, and deserves a more particular 
explanation. 

On what our capacity of moral improvement is founded. — I 
shall have occasion afterwards to show,* in treating of our moral 



* The following reasoning was suggested to me by a passage in Butler's 
Analogy. " Going over the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, 
and drawing fine pictures of it, this is so far from necessarily or certainly 
conducing to form a habit of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may 
harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more insensi- 
ble, i. e. form a habit of insensibility to all moral obligations. For, from 
our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, grow 
weaker. Thoughts, by often passing through the mind, are felt less sensi- 
bly ; being accustomed to danger, begets intrepidity, i. e. lessens fear ; to 
distress, lessens the passion of pity ; to instances of others' mortality, les- 
sens the sensible apprehension of our own. And from these two observa- 
tions together, that practical habits are formed and strengthened by repeated 
acts ; and that passive impressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us ; it 
must follow, that active habits may be gradually forming and strengthening 
by a course of acting upon such and such motives and excitements, while 
these motives and excitements themselves are, by proportionable degrees, 
growing less sensible, i. e. are continually less and less sensibly felt, even as 
the active habits strengthen. And experience confirms this ; for active prin- 
ciples, at the very time they are less lively in perception than they were, 



IMAGINATION. 863 

powers, that experience diminishes the influence of passive im- 
pressions on the mind, but strengthens our active principles. A 
course of debauchery deadens the sense of pleasure, but in- 
creases the desire of gratification. An immoderate use of strong 
liquors destroys the sensibility of the palate, but strengthens the 
habits of intemperance. The enjoyments we derive from any 
favorite pursuit gradually decay as we advance in years ; and 
yet we continue to prosecute our favorite pursuits with increas- 
ing steadiness and vigor. 

On these two laws of our nature is founded our capacity of 
moral improvement. In proportion as we are accustomed to 
obey our sense of duty, the influence of the temptations to vice 
is diminished ; while, at the same time, our habit of virtuous 
conduct is confirmed. How many passive impressions, for in- 
stance, must be overcome, before the virtue of beneficence can 
exert itself uniformly and habitually ! How many circumstances 
are there in the distresses of others, which have a tendency to 
alienate our hearts from them, and which prompt us to withdraw 
from the sight of the miserable ! The impressions we receive 
from these are unfavorable to virtue ; their force, however, 
every day diminishes, and it may, perhaps, by perseverance, be 

are found to be, somehow, wrought more thoroughly into the temper and 
character, and become more effectual in influencing our practice. The 
three things just mentioned may afford instances of it. Perception of 
danger is a natural excitement of passive fear and active caution ; and by 
being inured to danger, habits of the latter are gradually wrought, at the 
same time that the former gradually lessens. Perception of distress in 
others, is a natural excitement passively to pity, and actively to relieve it ; 
but let a man set himself to attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed 
persons, and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly affected with the 
various miseries of life with which he must become acquainted ; when yet, 
at the same time, benevolence, considered not as a passion, but as a practi- 
cal principle of action, will strengthen ; and whilst he passively compas- 
sionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively to 
assist and befriend them. So, also, at the same time that the daily in- 
stances of men's dying around us, give us daily a less sensible passive 
feeling or apprehension of our own mortality, such instances greatly con- 
tribute to the strengthening a practical regard of it in serious men ; i. e. to 
forming a habit Oi acting with a constant view to it." 



364 IMAGINATION. 

wholly destroyed. It is thus that the character of the beneficent 
man is formed. The passive impressions which he felt origin- 
ally, and which counteracted his sense of duty, have lost their 
influence, and a habit of beneficence is become part of his 
nature. 

Habits of benevolence make up for the loss of quick sympa- 
thies. — It must be owned, that this reasoning may, in part, be 
retorted ; for among those passive impressions, which are weak- 
ened by repetition, there are some which have a beneficial 
tendency. The uneasiness, in particular,, which the sight of 
distress occasions, is a strong incentive to acts of humanity ; and 
it cannot be denied that it is lessened by experience. This 
might naturally lead us to expect, that the young and unprac- 
tised would be more disposed to perform beneficent actions, 
than those who are advanced in life, and who have been familiar 
with scenes of misery. And, in truth, the fact would be so, 
were it not that the effect of custom on this passive impression 
is counteracted by its effects on others ; and, above all, by its 
influence in strengthening the active habit of beneficence. An 
old and experienced physician is less affected by the sight of 
bodily pain than a young practitioner ; but he has acquired a 
more confirmed habit of assisting the sick and helpless, and 
would offer greater violence to his nature, if he should withhold 
from them any relief that he has in his power to bestow. In 
this case we see a beautiful provision made for our moral im- 
provement, as the effects of experience on one part of our con- 
stitution are made to counteract its effects on another. 

Familiarity with scenes of fictitious distress is hurtful. — If 
the foregoing observations be well founded, it will follow, that 
habits of virtue are not to be formed in retirement, but by ming- 
ling in the scenes of active life, and that an habitual attention 
to exhibitions of fictitious distress, is not merely useless to the 
character, but positively hurtful. 

It will not, I think, be disputed, that the frequent perusal of 
pathetic compositions diminishes the uneasiness which they are 
naturally fitted to excite. A person who indulges habitually in 
such studies, may feel a growing desire of his usual gratification, 



IMAGINATION. 365 

but he is every day less and less affected by the scenes which 
are presented to him. I believe it would be difficult to find an 
actor long hackneyed on the stage, who is capable of being com- 
pletely interested by the distresses of a tragedy. The effect of 
such compositions and representations, in rendering the mind 
callous to actual distress, is still greater ; for as the imagination 
of the poet almost always carries him beyond truth and nature, 
a familiarity with the tragic scenes which he exhibits, can hardly 
fail to deaden the impression produced by the comparatively 
trifling sufferings which the ordinary course of human affairs 
presents to us. In real life, a provision is made for this gradual 
decay of sensibility, by the proportional decay of other pas- 
sive impressions, which have an opposite tendency, and by the 
additional force which our active habits are daily acquiring. 
Exhibitions of fictitious distress, while they produce the former 
change on the character, have no influence in producing the 
latter ; on the contrary, they tend to strengthen those passive 
impressions which counteract beneficence. The scenes into which 
the novelist introduces us are, in general, perfectly unlike those 
which occur in the world. As his object is to please, he removes 
from his descriptions every circumstance which is disgusting, 
and presents us with the histories of elegant and dignified dis- 
tress. It is not such scenes that human life exhibits. We have 
to act, not with refined and elevated characters, but with the 
mean, the illiterate, the vulgar, and the profligate. The perusal 
of fictitious history has a tendency to increase that disgust which 
we naturally feel at the concomitants of distress, and to cultivate 
a false refinement of taste, inconsistent with our condition as 
members of society. Nay, it is possible for this refinement to 
be carried so far as to withdraw a man from the duties of life, 
and even from the sight of those distresses which he might 
alleviate. And, accordingly, many are to be found, who, if the 
situations of romance were realized, would not fail to display the 
virtues of their favorite characters, whose sense of duty is not 
sufficiently strong to engage them in the humble and private 
scenes of human misery. 

To these effects of fictitious history we may add, that it givet 
31* 



366 IMAGINATION. 

no exercise to our active habits. In real life, we proceed from 
the passive impression to those exertions which it was intended 
to produce. In the contemplation of imaginary sufferings, we 
stop short at the impression, and whatever benevolent disposi- 
tions we may feel, we have no opportunity of carrying them 
into action. 

Good and evil effects of fiction. — From these reasonings it 
appears, that an habitual attention to exhibitions of fictitious 
distress is, in every view, calculated to check our moral improve- 
ment. It diminishes that uneasiness which we feel at the sight 
of distress, and which prompts us to relieve it. It strengthens 
that disgust which the loathsome concomitants of distress excite 
in the mind, and which prompts us to avoid the sight of misery ; 
while, at the same time, it has no tendency to confirm those 
habits of active beneficence, without which, the best dispositions 
are useless. I would not, however, be understood to disapprove 
entirely of fictitious narratives, or of pathetic compositions. On 
the contrary, I think that the perusal of them may be attended 
with advantage, when the effects which I have mentioned are 
corrected by habits of real business. They soothe the mind 
when ruffled by the rude intercourse of society, and stealing the 
attention insensibly from our own cares, substitute, instead of 
discontent and distress, a tender and pleasing melancholy. By 
exhibitions of characters a little elevated above the common 
standard, they have a tendency to cultivate the taste in life ; to 
quicken our disgust at what is mean or offensive, and to form 
the mind insensibly to elegance and dignity. Their tendency 
to cultivate the powers of moral perception has never been dis- 
puted ; and when the influence of such perceptions is powerfully 
felt, and is united with an active and manly temper, they render 
the character not only more amiable, but more happy in itself, 
and more useful to others ; for although a rectitude of judgment 
with respect to conduct, and strong moral feelings, do, by no 
means, alone constitute virtue ; yet they are frequently neces- 
sary to direct our behaviour in the more critical situations of 
life ; and they increase the interest we take in the general pros- 
perity of virtue in the world. I believe, likewise, that, by 



IMAGINATION. 867 

moans of fictitious history, displays of character may be most 
successfully given, and the various weaknesses of the heart ex- 
posed. I only mean to insinuate, that a taste for them may be 
carried too far ; that the sensibility which terminates in imagi- 
nation, is but a refined and selfish luxury ; and that nothing can 
effectually advance our moral improvement, but an attention to 
the active duties which belong to our stations.* 

VI. Important uses to which the power of imagination is sub- 
servient. — The faculty of imagination is the great spring of hu- 
man activity, and the principal source of human improvement. 
As it delights in presenting to the mind scenes and characters 
more perfect than those which we are acquainted with, it pre- 
vents us from ever being completely satisfied with our present 
condition, or with our past attainments ; and engages us contin- 
ually in the pursuit of some untried enjoyment, or of some ideal 
excellence. Hence the ardor of the selfish to better their for- 
tunes, and to add to their personal accomplishments ; and hence 
the zeal of the patriot and the philosopher to advance the vir- 
tue and the happiness of the human race. Destroy this faculty, 
and the condition of man will become as stationary as that of 
the brutes. 

When the notions of enjoyment or of excellence which imag- 
ination has formed, are greatly raised above the ordinary stand- 
ard, they interest the passions too deeply to leave us at all times 
the cool exercise of reason, and produce that state of the mind 
which is commonly known by the name of enthusiasm ; a temper 



* After all the concessions I have here made in favor of such fictitious 
histories as our modern novels, I must acknowledge my own partiality for 
those performances of an earlier date, which describe the adventures of im- 
aginary orders of being. [The Arabian Nights' Entertainment, Fairy Tales, 
etc.] Many of them afford lessons of morality not less instructive than 
those in our most unexceptionable novels ; and they possess, over and 
above, the important advantage of giving to the imagination of young per- 
sons a much more vigorous exercise, while they have no such tendency 
as novels have to mislead them in their views of human life. In most 
cases, it may be laid down as a rule, that fictitious histories are dangerous, 
in proportion as the manners they exhibit profess to approac'i to those 
which wc expect to meet with in the world. 



368 IMAGINATION. 

which is one of the most fruitful sources of error and disappoint- 
ment ; but which is a source, at the same time, of heroic actions 
and of exalted characters. To the exaggerated conceptions of 
eloquence which perpetually revolved in the mind of Cicero ; 
to that idea which haunted his thoughts of aliquid immensum 
infinitumque, we are indebted for some of the most splendid 
displays of human genius ; and it is probable that something of 
the same kind has been felt by every man who has risen much 
above the level of humanity, either in speculation or in action. 
It is happy for the individual, when these enthusiastic desires 
are directed to events which do not depend on the caprice of 
fortune. 

Why the higher hinds of poetry please. — The pleasure we 
receive from the higher kinds of poetry takes rise, in part, from 
that dissatisfaction which the objects of imagination inspire us 
with, for the scenes, the events, and the characters, with which 
our senses are conversant. Tired and disgusted with this world 
of imperfection, we delight to escape to another of the poet's 
creation, where the charms of nature wear an eternal bloom, 
and where sources of enjoyment are opened to us, suited to the 
vast capacities of the human mind.* On this natural love of 
poetical fiction, Lord Bacon has founded a very ingenious argu- 
ment for the soul's immortality ; and, indeed, one of the most 
important purposes to which it is subservient, is to elevate the 
mind above the pursuits of our present condition, and to direct 
the views to higher objects. In the mean time, it is rendered 






* [Poetry, says Lord Bacon, " is nothing else but feigned history, which 
may be styled [written] as well in prose as in verse. The use of this 
feigned history hath been, to give some shadow of satisfaction to the mind 
of man in those points wherein the nature of things doth deny it, the 
world being in proportion inferior to the soul ; by reason whereof, there is 
agreeable to the spirit of man a more ample greatness, a more exact good- 
ness, andamore absolute variety, than can be found in the nature of things. 
Therefore, because the acts or events of true history have not that magni- 
tude which satisfieth the mind of man, poesy feigneth acts and events 
greater and more heroical : because true history propoundeth the successes 
and issues of actions not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, 



IMAGINATION. 869 

subservient also, in an eminent degree, to the improvement and 
happiness of mankind, by the tendency which it has to acceler- 
ate the progress of society. 

Good effects of a taste for poetry. — As the pictures which 
the poet presents to us are never (even in works of pure de- 
scription) faithful copies from nature, but are always meant to 
be improvements on the original she affords, it cannot be 
doubted that they must have some effect in refining and exalt- 
ing our taste, both with respect to material beauty, and to the 
objects of our pursuit in life. It has been alleged, that the 
works of our descriptive poets have contributed to diffuse that 
taste for picturesque beauty which is so prevalent in England, 
and to recall the public admiration from the fantastic decora- 
tions of art, to the more powerful and permanent charms of cul- 
tivated nature ; and it is certain, that the first ardors of many an 
illustrious character have been kindled by the compositions of 
Homer and Virgil. It is difficult to say, to what a degree, in 
the earlier periods of society, the rude compositions of the bard 
and the minstrel may have been instrumental in humanizing the 
minds of savage warriors, and in accelerating the growth of cul- 
tivated manners. Among the Scandinavians and the Celtae, we 
know that this order of men was held in very peculiar venera- 
tion ; and, accordingly, it would appear, from the monuments 
which remain of these nations, that they were distinguished by 
a delicacy in the passion of love, and by a humanity and generos- 

therefore poesy feigneth them more just in retribution, and more according 
to revealed providence : because true history representeth actions and 
events more ordinary, and less interchanged, therefore poesy endueth them 
with more rareness, and more unexpected and alternative variations ; so as 
it appeareth, poesy serveth and conferreth to magnanimity, morality, and 
to delectation. And therefore it was ever thought to have some participa- 
tion of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by submitting 
the shows of things to the desires of the mind ; whereas reason doth buckle 
and bow the mind unto the nature of things. And we see, that by these 
insinuations and congruities with man's nature and pleasure, joined also 
with the agreement and consort it hath with music, it hath had access and 
estimation in rude times and barbarous regions, where other learning 
stood excluded."! — Advancement of Learning. Book ii. 



370 IMAGINATION. 

ity to the vanquished in war, which seldom appear among bar' 
barous tribes ; and with which it is hardly possible to conceive 
how men in such a state of society could have been inspired, 
but by a separate class of individuals in the community, who 
devoted themselves to the pacific profession of poetry, and to 
the cultivation of that creative power of the mind, which antic- 
ipates the course of human affairs, and presents, in prophetic 
vision, to the poet and the philosopher, the blessings which 
accompany the progress of reason and refinement. 

Imagination multiplies our innocent enjoyments. — Nor must 
we omit to mention the important effects of imagination, in 
multiplying the sources of innocent enjoyment beyond what this 
limited scene affords. Not to insist on the noble efforts of gen- 
ius, which have rendered this part of our constitution subser- 
vient to moral improvement, how much has the sphere of our 
happiness been extended, by those agreeable fictions which 
introduce us to new worlds, and make us acquainted with new 
orders of being ! What a fund of amusement, through life, is 
prepared for one who reads in his childhood the fables of 
ancient Greece ! They dwell habitually on the memory, and 
are ready, at all times, to fill up the intervals of business, or of 
serious reflection ; and in his hours of rural retirement and 
leisure, they warm his mind with the fire of ancient genius, and 
animate every scene he enters, with the offspring of classical 
fancy. 

Happy effect of agreeable anticipations of the future. — It is, 
however, chiefly in painting future scenes, that imagination 
loves to indulge herself, and her prophetic dreams are almost 
always favorable to happiness. By an erroneous education, 
indeed, it is possible to render this faculty an instrument of 
constant and of exquisite distress ; but, in such cases, (abstract- 
ing from the influence of a constitutional melancholy,) the dis- 
tresses of a gloomy imagination are to be ascribed, not to 
nature, but to the force of early impressions. 

The common bias of the mind undoubtedly is, (such is the 
benevolent appointment of Providence,) to think favorably of 
the future; to overvalue the chances of possible good, and to 



IMAGINATION. 371 

underrate the risk of possible evil ; and, in the case of some 
fortunate individuals, this disposition remains after a thousand 
disappointments. To what this bias of our nature is owing, it 
is not material for us to inquire ; the fact is certain, and it is 
an important one to our happiness. It supports us under the 
real distresses of life, and cheers and animates all our labors ; 
and although it is sometimes apt to produce, in a weak and 
indolent mind, those deceitful suggestions of ambition and van- 
ity, which lead us to sacrifice the duties and the comforts of the 
present moment to romantic hopes and expectations ; yet, it 
must be acknowledged, when connected with habits of activity, 
and regulated by a solid judgment, to have a favorable effect 
on the character, by inspiring that ardor and enthusiasm which 
both prompt to great enterprises, and are necessary to insure 
their success. When such a temper is united (as it commonly 
is) with pleasing notions concerning the order of the universe, 
and, in particular, concerning the condition and the prospects 
of man, it places our happiness, in a great measure, beyond the 
power of fortune. While it adds a double relish to every en- 
joyment, it blunts the edge of all our sufferings ; and, even 
when human life presents to us no object on which our hopes 
can rest, it invites the imagination beyond the dark and troubled 
horizon, which terminates all our earthly prospects, to wander 
unconfined in the regions of futurity. A man of benevolence, 
whose mind is enlarged by philosophy, will indulge the same 
agreeable anticipations with respect to society ; will view all 
the different improvements in arts, in commerce, and in the sci- 
ences, as cooperating to promote the union, the happiness, and 
the virtue of mankind ; and amidst the political disorders re- 
sulting from the prejudices and follies of his own times, will look 
forward with transport to the blessings which are reserved for 
posterity in a more enlightened age. 



372 REASON. 



CHAPTER VIII 

OF REASON. 

I. On the vagueness and ambiguity of the common philosophi- 
cal language relative to this part of our constitution. — The 
power of Reason, of which I am now to treat, is unquestionably 
the most important by far of those which are comprehended 
under the general title of intellectual. It is on the right use of 
this power, that our success in the pursuit both of knowledge 
and of happiness depends ; and it is by the exclusive possession 
of it, that man is distinguished, in the most essential respects, 
from the lower animals. It is, indeed, from their subserviency 
to its operations, that the other faculties, which have been 
hitherto under our consideration, derive their chief value. 

Popular meaning of the word Reason. — Some remarkable 
instances of vagueness and ambiguity in the employment of 
words, occur in that branch of my subject of which I am now 
to treat. The word Reason, itself, is far from being precise in 
its meaning. In common and popular discourse, it denotes that 
power by which we distinguish truth from falsehood, and right 
from wrong ; and by which we are enabled to combine means for 
the attainment of particular ends. Whether these different 
capacities are, with strict logical propriety, referred to the same 
power, is a question which I shall examine in another part of 
my work ; but that they are all included in the idea which is 
generally annexed to the word Reason, there can be no doubt ; 
and the case, so far as I know, is the same with the correspond- 
ing term in all languages whatever. The fact probably is, that 
this word was^/zrs^ employed to comprehend the principles, what- 
ever they are, by which man is distinguished from the brutes ; 
and afterwards came to be somewhat limited in its meaning, by 



REASON. 373 

the more obvious conclusions concerning the nature of that dis- 
tinction, which present themselves to the common sense of man- 
kind. It is in this enlarged meaning that it is opposed to 
instinct by Pope : — 

"And reason raise o'er instinct as you can ; 
In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis man." 

It was thus, too, that Milton plainly understood the term, 
when he remarked, that smiles imply the exercise of Reason : — 

" Smiles from Reason flow, 



To brutes denied : " 

and still more explicitly in these noble lines : — 

" There wanted yet the master-work, the end 
Of all yet done ; a creature who, not prone 
And brute as other creatures, but endued 
With sanctity of Reason, might erect 
His stature, and upright with front serene 
Govern the rest, self-knowing; and from thence, 
Magnanimous, to correspond with heaven; 
But, grateful to acknowledge whence his good 
Descends, thither with heart, and voice, and eyes, 
Directed in devotion, to adore 
And worship God Supreme, who made him chief 
Of all his works." 

Among the various characteristics of humanity, the power of 
devising means to accomplish ends, together with the power 
of distinguishing truth from falsehood, and right from wrong, 
are obviously the most conspicuous and important ; and accord- 
ingly it is to these that the word Reason, even in its most 
comprehensive acceptation, is now exclusively restricted.* 



* This, I think, is the meaning which most naturally presents itself to 
common readers, when the word Reason occurs in authors not affecting to 
aim at any nice logical distinctions ; and it is certainly the meaning which 
must be annexed to it, in some of the most serious and important argu- 
ments in which it has ever been employed. In the following passage, for 
example, where Mr. Locke contrasts the light of Reason with that of 
Revelation, he plainly proceeds on the supposition, that it is competent to 
appeal to the former, as affording a standard of right and wrong, not less 

32 



374 REASON. 

More limited meaning of the word. — By some philosophers, 
the meaning of the word has been of late restricted still further ; 
to the power by which we distinguish truth from falsehood, ana 
combine means for the accomplishment of our purposes ; — the 
capacity of distinguishing right and wrong being referred to a 
separate principle or faculty, to which different names have 
been assigned in different ethical theories. The following pas 
sage from Mr. Hume contains one of the most explicit state- 
ments of this limitation which I can recollect : " Thus the dis- 
tinct boundaries and offices of reason and of taste are easily 
ascertained. The former conveys the knowledge of truth and 
falsehood ; the latter gives the sentiment of beauty and deform- 
ity, — vice and virtue. Reason, being cool and disengaged, is 
no motive to action, and directs only the impulse received from 
appetite or inclination, by showing us the means of attaining 
happiness or avoiding misery. Taste, as it gives pleasure or 
pain, and thereby constitutes happiness or misery, becomes a 
motive to action, and is the first spring or impulse to desire and 
volition." 

Reason distinguished from reasoning. — Another ambiguity 
in the word Reason, it is of still greater consequence to point 
out at present ; an ambiguity which leads us to confound our 
rational powers in general, with that particular branch of them 
known among logicians by the name of the discursive faculty. 
The affinity between the words reason and reasoning sufficiently 
accounts for this inaccuracy in common and popular language ; 

than of speculative truth and falsehood; nor can there be a doubt that, 
when he speaks of truth as the object of natural Reason, it was principally, 
if not wholly, moral truth, which he had in his view ; " Reason is natural 
revelation, whereby the eternal Father of Light, and fountain of all knowl- 
edge, communicates to mankind that portion of truth which he has laid 
within the reach of their natural faculties. Revelation is natural reason, 
enlarged by a new set of discoveries, communicated by God immediately, 
which reason vouches the truth of, by the testimony and proofs it gives 
that they come from God. So that he who takes away reason to make 
way for revelation, puts out the light of both, and does much the same 
as if he would persuade a man to put out his eyes, the better to receive 
the remote light of an invisible star by a telescope." 



REASON. 375 

although it cannot fail to appear obvious, on the slightest reflec- 
tion, that, in strict propriety, reasoning only expresses one of the 
various functions or operations of Reason ; and that an extraor- 
dinary capacity for the former by no means affords a test, by 
which the other constituent elements of the latter may be 
measured." * Nor is it to common and popular language that 
this inaccuracy is confined. It has extended itself to the sys- 
tems of some of our most acute philosophers, and has, in various 
instances, produced an apparent diversity of opinion, where there 
was little or none in reality. 

In the use which I make of the word Reason, in the title of 
the following disquisitions, I employ it in a manner to which no 
philosopher can object, — to denote merely the power by which 
we distinguish truth from falsehood, and combine means for the 
attainment of our ends ; omitting, for the present, all considera- 
tion of that function which many have ascribed to it, of distin- 
guishing right from wrong ; without, however, presuming to call 
in question the accuracy of those by whom the term has been 
thus explained. Under the title of Reason, I shall consider also 
whatever faculties and operations appear to be more imme- 
diately and essentially connected with the discovery of truth, or 
the attainment of the objects of our pursuit, — more particu- 
larly the power of reasoning or deduction ; but distinguishing, 
as carefully as I can, our capacity of carrying on this logical 



* " The two most different things in the world," says Locke, " are, a logi- 
cal chicaner, and a man of reason." The adjective reasonable, as employed 
in our language, is not liable to the same ambiguity with the substantive 
from which it is derived. It denotes a character in which Reason, (taking 
that word in its largest acceptation,) possesses a decided ascendant over the 
temper and the passions ; and implies no particular propensity to a display 
of the discursive power, if, indeed, it does not exclude the idea of such a 
propensity. In the following stanza, Pope certainly had no view to the 
logical talents of the lady whom he celebrates : — 

" I know a thing that's most uncommon, 
(Envy, be silent and attend !) 
1 know a reasonable woman, 

Handsome and witty, yet a friend." 



376 REASON. 

process, from those more comprehensive powers which Reason 
is understood to imply.* 

Various meanings of the word Understanding. — Anothei 
instance of the vagueness and indistinctness of the common 
language of logicians, in treating of this part of the Philosophy 
of the Human Mind, occurs in the word Understanding. In its 
popular sense, it seems to be very nearly synonymous with 



* [Kant, and the later German metaphysicians, together with some of 
the French school, assign very different functions to the Reason and the 
Understanding. Indeed, the distinction between these two faculties is the 
key-note of German transcendental philosophy. According to Kant, 
Reason is the faculty which evolves our ideas of all that transcends the 
sphere of the senses and the limitations of experience, — of all which is 
not subject to the conditions of space and time, but is infinite and absolute. 
In one word, Reason is the faculty of the Unconditioned ; it is the soul 
itself, in the highest exercise of its activity, forming for itself ideas, to 
which there are no corresponding realities in the world of sense or in 
the cognitions of the understanding. " Reason," says Krug, one of the ablest 
expounders of the Kantian philosophy, " is the noblest jewel of humanity, 
the true image of God, whereby alone man can raise himself from one 
stage of perfection to another. It rests, therefore, upon the perfectibility 
of our race, so that we are always striving after the Ideal, without ever 
obtaining it in all its fulness. Consequently, Reason is the only charac- 
teristic which distinguishes man from the other beasts of the earth ; these 
resemble him more or less in all other respects, they even surpass him in 
some, but show no trace of Reason, because they neither strive after the 
Ideal, nor are they able to perfect themselves by their own power." But 
it must be remembered, that no knowledge, properly so called, can be con- 
structed out of these Ideas which are evolved by Reason, since there is no 
object corresponding to them in the whole circle of experience. The 
Reason ceaselessly strives after a knowledge of God, of the Universe, of 
the Immortality and Freedom of the Soul ; and from these vain efforts, 
constantly renewed and constantly defeated, have arisen all the doctrines 
and systems of metaphysics. We cannot either prove or disprove the 
reality of the supersensual objects corresponding to these ideas of the 
Reason. The arguments for and against any conclusion respecting them 
are equally valid, and thus confute each other. Thus Kant is led to 
affirm, that no metaphysical science is possible, and that the doctrines of 
ontology and speculative theology are self-contradictory and absurd. 

This account of the Reason coincides very nearly with a doctrine attrib- 
uted by Cud worth to the ancient philosophers, when he says, " We have 
all of us, by nature, fiavrevfid ti (as both Plato and Aristotle call it), a cer- 



REASON. 377 

Reason, when that word is used most comprehensively ; and is 
seldom or never applied to any of our faculties, but such as are 
immediately subservient to the investigation of truth, or to the 
regulation of our conduct. In this sense, it is so far from being 
understood to comprehend the powers of imagination, fancy, and 
wit, that it is often stated in direct opposition to them ; as in 
the common maxim, that a sound understanding and a warm 



tain divination, presage, and parturient vaticination in our minds, of some 
higher good and perfection than either power or knowledge. Knowledge 
is plainly to be preferred before power, as being that which guides aud 
directs its blind force and impetus ; but Aristotle himself declares, that 
there is Aoyov n KpeZrrov, which is hoyov apxv, something better than reason 
and knowledge, which is the principle and original of all. For (saith he) 
TJjyov apxv °v "^oyoc, aXka tl KpetTTov ; the principle of reason is not reason, 
but something better." — Cudworth's Intellectual System, Am. ed. vol. 1, 
p. 277. 

The Understanding, on the other hand, according to Kant, is a lower 
faculty of the mind, which corresponds very nearly to what we call under- 
standing, or intellect. It is that faculty of the mind, by which the indi- 
vidual representations that come to us through the senses, are formed 
into general conceptions and judgments, so as to become food for thought. 
The intuitions of sence, as they are termed, are thus formed into concep- 
tions, by being subsumed under the categories of the Understanding. An 
intuition is thus subsumed under the categories of quantity, for iustance, 
by being necessarily conceived of as one, many, or all ; under the catego- 
ries of quality, because we must think of it as real, unreal, or limited, &c. 
These categories are forms of the Understanding ; they are not received 
from experience, but are conditions imposed upon experience, as, without 
them, experience would not be possible. The Understanding is like a 
colored glass, which imposes its own hues upon all external objects. We 
cannot see things as they are in themselves, but only as they appear to us, 
under the forms and conditions of the intellect ; we cannot know them 
as noumena, but can only recognize them as phenomena. 

Kant's system is certainly obscure, but it is by no means unintelligible. 
From the faint and imperfect outline of it which is here given, and which 
is designed only as an explanation of some of its technical terms, it is 
easy to sec, that it is a system of skepticism far more comprehensive 
than that of Hume. It denies the possibility of our knowing any thing 
which lies beyond the limits of the senses and experience ; and even 
within these limits, we can know things, not as they really are, but only 
as they appear to us.] 

32* 



378 REASON. 

imagination are seldom united in the same person. But philos- 
ophers, without rejecting this use of the word, very generally 
employ it, with far greater latitude, to comprehend all the 
powers which I have enumerated under the title of intellectual ; 
referring to it imagination, memory, and perception, as well as 
the faculties to which it is appropriated in popular discourse, 
and which it seems, indeed, most properly to denote. It is in 
this manner that it is used by Mr. Locke, in his celebrated 
Essay ; and by all the logicians, who follow the common division 
of our mental powers into those of the understanding and those 
of the will. 

As the word understanding, however, is one of those which 
occur very frequently in philosophical arguments, it may be of 
some use to disengage it from the ambiguity just remarked; 
and it is on this account, that I have followed the example of 
some late writers, in distinguishing the two classes of powers, 
which were formerly referred to the understanding and to the 
will, by calling the former intellectual, and the latter active.* 
The terms cognitive and motive, were long ago proposed for 
the same purpose by Hobbes ; but they never appear to have 
come into general use, and are, indeed, liable to obvious objec- 
tions. 

Ambiguity of the word judgment. — The only other indefinite 
word, which I shall take notice of in these introductory remarks, 
is judgment ; and, in doing so, I shall confine myself to such 
of its ambiguities as are more peculiarly connected with our 
present subject. In some cases, its meaning seems to approach 
to that of understanding ; as in the nearly synonymous phrases, 
a sound understanding, and a sound judgment. If there be any 
difference between these two modes of expression, it appears to 
me to consist chiefly in this, that the former implies a greater 
degree of positive ability than the latter ; which indicates rather 
an exemption from those biases which lead the mind astray, 
than the possession of any uncommon reach of capacity. To 
understanding, we apply the epithets strong, vigorous, compre- 



* [See note to page 14.J 



REASON. 379 

hensive, profound : to judgment, those of correct, cool, unpreju- 
diced, impartial, solid. It was in this sense, that the word 
seems to have been understood by Pope, in the ' following 
couplet : — 

" 'Tis with our judgments as our watches ; none 
Go just alike, yet each believes his own." 

For this meaning of the word, its primitive and literal appli- 
cation to the judicial decision of a tribunal accounts suffi- 
ciently. 

Agreeably to the same fundamental idea, the name of judg- 
ment is given with peculiar propriety to those acquired powers 
of discernment, which characterize a skilful critic in the fine 
arts ; powers which depend, in a very great degree, on a temper 
of mind free from the undue influence of authority and of 
casual associations. The power of taste itself is frequently 
denoted by the appellation of judgment ; and a person who 
possesses a more than ordinary share of it, is said to be a 
judge in those matters which fall under its cognizance. 

In treatises of logic, judgment is commonly defined to be an 
act of the mind, by which one thing is affirmed or denied of 
another; a definition which, though not unexceptionable, is, 
perhaps, less so than most that have been given on similar 
occasions. Its defect, as Dr. Reid has remarked, consists in 
this, — that although it be by affirmation or denial that we 
express our judgments to others, yet judgment is a solitary act 
of the mind, to which this affirmation or denial is not essential ; 
and, therefore, if the definition be admitted, it must be under- 
stood of mental affirmation or denial only ; in which case, we do 
no more than substitute, instead of the thing defined, another 
mode of speaking, perfectly synonymous. The definition has, 
however, notwithstanding this imperfection, the merit of a con- 
ciseness and perspicuity, not often to be found in the attempts 
of logicians to explain our intellectual operations. 

Obscurity in metaphysics is always the fault of the writer. — 
To the following observations of D'Alembert, (with some tri- 
fling verbal exceptions,) I give my most cordial assent ; and, 



380 REASON. 

mortifying as they may appear to the pretensions of bolder 
theorists, I should be happy to see them generally recognized 
as canons of philosophical criticism : " Truth in metaphysics 
resembles truth in matters of taste. In both cases, the seeds 
of it exist in every mind; though few think of attending to 
this latent treasure, till it be pointed out to them by more curi- 
ous inquirers. It should seem, that every thing we learn from a 
good metaphysical book, is only a sort of reminiscence of what 
the mind previously knew. The obscurity of which we are apt 
to complain in this science, may be always justly ascribed to 
the author ; because the information which he professes to com- 
municate, requires no technical language appropriated to itself. 
Accordingly, we may apply to good metaphysical authors, what 
has been said of those who excel in the art of writing, that, in 
reading them, everybody is apt to imagine, that he himself 
could have written in the same manner. 

" But, in this sort of speculation, if all are qualified to under- 
stand, all are not fitted to teach. The merit of accommodating 
easily to the apprehension of others, notions which are at once 
simple and just, appears, from its extreme rarity, to be much 
greater than is commonly imagined. Sound metaphysical prin- 
ciples, are truths which every one is ready to seize, but which 
few men have the talent of unfolding ; so difficult is it in this, 
as well as in other instances, to appropriate to one's self, what 
seems to be the common inheritance of the human race." 

I begin with a review of some of those primary truths, a 
conviction of which is necessarily implied in all our thoughts, 
and in all our actions ; and which seem, on that account, rather 
to form constituent and essential elements of reason, than 
objects with which reason is conversant. The import of this 
last remark will appear more clearly afterwards. 

The primary truths to which I mean to confine my attention 
at present are, 1. Mathematical axioms; 2. Truths, (or more 
properly speaking, laws of belief,) inseparably connected with 
the exercise of consciousness, perception, memory, and rea- 
soning. 

I. Of Mathematical Axioms. — I have placed this class of 



IIK.WOX. 381 

truths at the head of the enumeration, merely because they 
seem likely, from the place which they hold in the elements of 
geometry, to present to my readers a more interesting, and at 
the same time an easier, subject of discussion, than some of the 
more abstract and latent elements of our knowledge, afterwards 
to be considered. In other respects, a different arrangement 
might perhaps have possessed some advantages, in point of strict 
logical method. 

Axioms are not principles from which any knowledge can be 
deduced. — It was long ago remarked by Locke, of the axioms 
of geometry, as stated by Euclid, that, although the proposition 
be at first enunciated in general terms, and afterwards appealed 
to, in its particular applications, as a principle previously 
examined and admitted, yet that the truth is not less evident in 
the latter case than in the former. He observes further, that it 
is in some of its particular applications, that the truth of every 
axiom is originally perceived by the mind; and, therefore, that 
the general propomion, so far from being the ground of our 
assent to the truths which it comprehends, is only a verbal 
generalization of what, in particular instances, has been already 
acknowledged as true. 

The same author remarks, that some of these axioms " are 
no more than bare verbal propositions, and teach us nothing but 
the respect and import of names one to another. 'The whole is 
equal to all its parts ' ; what real truth, I beseech yon, does it 
teach us ? What more is contained in that maxim, than what 
the signification of the word totum, or the whole, does of itself 
import? And he that knows that the word whole stands for 
what is made up of all its parts, knows very little less, than that 
"the whole is equal to all its parts." And upon the same 
ground, I think that this proposition, 'A hill is higher than a 
valley,' and several the like, may also pass foi maxims." 

How far axioms are useful. — Notwithstanding these con- 
siderations, Mr. Locke does not object to the form which 
Euclid has given to his axioms, or to the place which he has 
assigned to them in his Elements. On the contrary, he is of 
opinion, that a collection of such maxims is not without reason 



382 REASON. 

prefixed to a mathematical system; in order that learners, 
" having in the beginning perfectly acquainted their thoughts 
with these propositions made in general terms, may have them 
ready to apply to all particular cases, as formed rules and say- 
ings. Not that, if they be equally weighed, they are more 
clear and evident than the instances they are brought to con- 
firm ; but that, being more familiar to the mind, the very nam- 
ing of them is enough to satisfy the understanding." In further 
illustration of this, he adds, very justly and ingeniously, that 
" although our knowledge begins in particulars, and so spreads 
itself, by degrees, to generals ; yet, afterwards, the mind takes 
quite the contrary course, and having drawn its knowledge into 
as general propositions as it can, makes them familiar to its 
thoughts, and accustoms itself to have recourse to them, as to 
the standards of truth and falsehood." 

But although in mathematics some advantage may be gained, 
without the risk of any possible inconvenience, from this ar- 
rangement of axioms, it is a very dangerous example to be fol- 
lowed in other branches of knowledge, where our notions are 
not equally clear and precise ; and where the force of our pre- 
tended axioms, (to use Mr. Locke's words,) " reaching only to 
the sound, and not to the signification, of the words, serves only 
to lead us into confusion, mistakes, and error." For the illus- 
tration of this remark, I must refer to Locke. 

Axioms are not the foundations on which science rests. — 
Another observation of this profound writer deserves our 
attention, while examining the nature of axioms ; " that they 
are not the foundations on which any of the sciences is built ; 
nor at all useful in helping men forward to the discovery 
of unknown truths." This observation I intend to illustrate 
afterwards, in treating of the futility of the syllogistic art. At 
present, I shall only add to what Mr. Locke has so well stated, 
that, even in mathematics, it cannot with any propriety be said, 
that the axioms are the foundation on which the science rests, 
or the first principles from which its more recondite truths are 
deduced. 

" Of intuitive evidence," says Dr. Campbell, " that of the 



REASON". 388 

following propositions may serve as an illustration : ' One and 
four make five.' ' Things equal to the same thing, are equal to 
one another.' ' The whole is greater than a part ; ' and, in 
brief, all axioms in arithmetic and geometry. These are, in 
effect, but so many expositions of our own general notions, 
taken in different views. Some of them are no more than defi- 
nitions, or equivalent to definitions. To say, one and four make 
five, is precisely the same thing as to say, we give the name of 
five to one added to four. In fact, they are all, in some re- 
spects, reducible to this axiom, ' whatever is, is/ / do not say 
they are deduced from it, for they have, in like manner, that 
original and intrinsic evidence which makes them, as soon as 
the terms are understood, to be perceived intuitively. And, if 
they are not thus perceived, no deduction of reason will ever 
confer on them any additional evidence. Nay, in point of time, 
the discovery of the less general truths has the priority, not from 
their superior evidence, but solely from this consideration, that 
the less general are sooner objects of perception to us. But I 
affirm, that though not deduced from that axiom, they may be 
considered as particular exemplifications of it, and coincident 
with it, inasmuch as they are all implied in this, that the proper- 
ties of our clear and adequate ideas, can be no other than what 
the mind clearly perceives them to be. 

" Now, it is by the aid of such simple and elementary princi- 
ples, that the arithmetician and algebraist proceed to the most 
astonishing discoveries. Nor are the operations of the geome- 
trician essentially different." 

The nature of mathematical investigations. — I have little to 
object to these observations of Dr. Campbell, as far as they 
relate to arithmetic and to algebra ; for, in these sciences, all 
our investigations amount to nothing more than to a comparison 
of different expressions of the same thing. Our common lan- 
guage indeed frequently supposes the case to be otherwise ; as 
when an equation is defined to be, " A proposition asserting the 
equality of two quantities." It would, however, be much more 
correct to define it, " A proposition asserting the equivalence of 
two expressions of the same quantity ; " for algebra i9 merely a 



384 REASON. 

universal arithmetic ; and the names of numbers are nothing 
else than collectives, by which we are enabled to express our- 
selves more concisely than could be done by enumerating all 
the units that they contain. Of this doctrine, the passage now 
quoted from Dr. Campbell shows that he entertained a suffi- 
ciently just and precise idea. 

But, if Dr. Campbell perceived that arithmetical equations, 
such as " one and four make five," are no other than definitions, 
why should he have classed them with the axioms he quotes 
from Euclid, " That the whole is greater than a part," and that 
" Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another?" — 
propositions which, however clearly their truth be implied in 
the meaning of the terms of which they consist, cannot certainly, 
by any interpretation, be considered in the light of definitions at 
all analogous to the former. The former, indeed, are only ex- 
planations of the relative import of particular names ; the latter 
are universal propositions, applicable alike to an infinite variety 
of instances. 

Another very obvious consideration might have satisfied Dr. 
Campbell, that the simple arithmetical equations which he men- 
tions, do not hold the same place in that science which Euclid's 
axioms hold in geometry. What I allude to is, that the greater 
part of these axioms are equally essential to all the different 
branches of mathematics. That " the whole is greater than a 
part," and that " things equal to the same thing are equal to one 
another," are propositions as essentially connected with our 
arithmetical computations, as with our geometrical reasonings ; 
and therefore, to explain in what manner the mind makes a 
transition, in the case of numbers, from the more simple to the 
more complicated equations, throws no light whatever on the 
question, how the transition is made, either in arithmetic or in 
geometry, from what are properly called axioms, to the. more 
remote conclusions in these sciences. 

The very fruitless attempt thus made by this acute writer to 
illustrate the importance of axioms as the basis of mathematical 
truth, was probably suggested to him by a doctrine which has 
been repeatedly inculcated of late, concerning the grounds of 



REASON. 3$0 

that peculiar evidence which is allowed to accompany mathe- 
matical demonstration. " All the sciences," it has been said, 
" rest ultimately on first principles, which we must take for 
granted without proof; and whose evidence determines, both in 
kind and degree, the evidence which it is possible to attain in 
our conclusions. In some of the sciences, our first principles 
are intuitively certain ; in others, they are intuitively probable ; 
and such as the evidence of these principles is, such must that 
of our conclusions be. If our first principles are intuitively 
certain, and if we reason from them consequentially, our con- 
clusions will be demonstratively certain ; but if our principles 
be only intuitively probable, our conclusions will be only demon- 
stratively probable. In mathematics, the first principles from 
which we reason are a set of axioms, which are not only intui- 
tively certain, but of which we find it impossible to conceive the 
contraries to be true ; and hence the peculiar evidence which 
belongs to all the conclusions that follow from these principles 
as necessary consequences." 

Definitions, not axioms, are the Jirst principles of mathe- 
matics. — That there is something fundamentally erroneous in 
these very strong statements with respect to the relation which 
Euclid's axioms bear to the geometrical theorems which follow, 
appears sufficiently from a consideration which was long ago 
mentioned by Locke, that from these axioms it is not possible 
for human ingenuity to deduce a single inference. " It was not," 
says Locke, " the influence of those maxims which are taken for 
principles in mathematics, that hath led the masters of that 
science to those wonderful discoveries they have made. Let a 
man of good parts know all the maxims generally made use of 
in mathematics never so perfectly, and contemplate their extent 
and consequences as much as he pleases, he will, by their assist- 
ance, I suppose, scarce ever come to know, that ' the square 
of the hypothenuse in a right angled triangle, is equal to the 
squares of the two other sides.' The knowledge that ' the whole 
is equal to all its parts,' and, ' if you take equals from equals, 
the remainders will be equal,' helped him not, I presume, to this 
demonstration ; and a man may, I think, pore long enough on 

33 



380 REASON. 

these axioms, without ever seeing one jot the more of mathe- 
matical truths." But surely, if this be granted, and if, at the 
same time, by the first principles of a science be meant those 
fundamental propositions from which its remoter truths are 
derived, the axioms cannot, with any consistency, be called the 
first principles of mathematics. They have not, it will be ad- 
mitted, the most distant analogy to what are called the first 
principles of natural philosophy; — to those general facts,, for 
example, of the gravity and elasticity of the air, from which 
may be deduced, as consequences, the suspension of the mercury 
in the Torricellian tube, and its fall when carried up to an 
eminence. According to this meaning of the word, the princi- 
ples of mathematical science are, not the axioms, but the defini- 
tions ; which definitions hold, in mathematics, precisely the same 
place that is held in natural philosophy by such general facts 
as have now been referred to.* 



* In order to prevent cavil, it may be necessary for me to remark here, 
that when I speak of mathematical axioms, I have in view only such as 
arc of the same description with the first nine of those which are prefixed 
to the Elements of Euclid ; for, in that list, it is well known, that there 
are several which belong to a class of propositions altogether different from 
the others. That "all right angles (for example) are equal to one 
another ; " that " when one straight line falling on two other straight lines 
makes the two interior angles on the same side less than two right angles, 
these two straight lines, if produced, shall meet on the side, where are the 
two angles less than two right angles ; " are manifestly principles which 
bear no analogy to such barren truisms as these, " Things that are equal 
to one and the same thing, are equal to one another." " If equals be 
added to equals, the wholes are equal." " If equals be taken from equals, 
the remainders are equal." Of these propositions, the two former (the 
10th and 11th axioms, to wit, in Euclid's list) are evidently theorems 
which, in point of strict logical accuracy, ought to be demonstrated ; as 
may be easily done, with respect to the first, in a single sentence. That 
the second has not yet been proved in a simple and satisfactory manner, 
has been long considered as a sort of reproach to mathematicians ; and 
I have little doubt that this reproach will continue to exist, till the basis 
of the science be somewhat enlarged, by the introduction of one or two 
new definitions, to serve as additional principles of geometrical reasoning. 

[Dr. Whewell and Mr. J. S. Mill have engaged in this discussion 



REASON. 887 

From what principle are the various properties of the circle 
derived, but from the definition of a circle ? From what prin- 



rcspecting the nature of axioms and the fii'St principles of mathemavical 
reasoning, the former controverting, and the latter supporting, the opinions 
of Mr. Stewart. Yet the admission made by Stewart in the former part 
of this note seems to take away much of the ground of controversy 
between him and Dr. Whewell. It seems to be admitted on all hands, by 
Mr. Mill as well as by Mr. Stewart, that what Dr. Whewell calls " the 
peculiar geometrical axioms/' such as the 10th and 11th of Euclid, are 
among the first principles of geometry, — that, far from being barren 
truisms, like the first nine, proper inferences can be deduced from them, 
and the whole structure of geometry could not be built up Avithout their 
aid. The only doubt is, whether they are properly called axioms, whether 
they should not be considered rather as theorems, or propositions which 
ought to be demonstrated, though geometricians have not as yet succeeded 
in proving them. On the other hand, Dr. Whewell does not assert that 
gtometrical reasoning rests exclusively upon axioms, but allows that defini- 
tions must be classed with them, both together constituting the first prin- 
ciples of the science. He urges, " that no one has yet been able to con- 
struct a system of mathematical truths by the aid of definitions alone; 
that a definition would not be admissible or applicable, except it agreed 
with a distinct conception in the mind ; that the definitions which we 
employ in mathematics are not arbitrary or hypothetical, but necessary 
definitions ; and that the real foundation of the truths of mathematics is 
the idea of space, which may be expressed, for purposes of demonstration, 
partly by definitions and partly by axioms." 

Mr. Mill answers, " Those who say that the premises of geometry are 
hypotheses, are not bound to maintain them to be hypotheses which have 
no relation whatever to fact. Since an hypothesis framed for the pur- 
pose of scientific inquiry must relate to something which has real exist- 
ence, (for there can be no science respecting nonentities,) it follows, that 
any hypothesis which we make respecting an object, to facilitate our 
study of it, must not involve any thing which is distinctly false, and re- 
pugnant to its real nature ; we must not ascribe to the thing any prop- 
erty, which it has not ; our liberty extends only to suppressing some of 
those which it has, under the indispensable obligation of restoring thc^n 
whenever, and as far as, their presence or absence would make any 
material difference in the truth of our conclusion. Of this nature, ac- 
cordingly, are the first principles involved in the definitions of geometry. 
In their positive part, they are observed facts ; it is only in their negative 
Dart that they are hypothetical." 

It had been previously remarked by Mr. Mill, that " there exist no real 



obO REASON 

ciple the properties of the parabola or ellipse, bat from the 
definitions of these curves ? A similar observation may be ex- 
tended to all the other theorems which the mathematician 
demonstrates ; and it is this observation (which, obvious as it 
may seem, does not appear to have occurred, in all its force, 



things exactly conformable to the definitions. There exist no points with- 
out magnitude ; no lines without breadth, nor perfectly straight ; no circles 
with all their radii exactly equal, nor squares with all their angles perfectly 
right." " To get rid of this difficulty, and, at the same time, to save the 
credit of the supposed systems of necessary truth, it is customary to say 
that the points, lines, circles, and squares which are the subject of geome- 
try, exist in our conceptions merely, and are part of our minds ; which 
minds, by working on their own materials, construct an a priori science, the 
evidence of which is purely mental, and has nothing whatever to do with 
outward experience." This doctrine, however, he maintains to be psycho- 
logical^ incorrect ; for " we cannot conceive a line without breadth ; we can 
form no mental picture of such a line ; all the lines which we have in our 
minds are lines possessing breadth." " A line, as defined by geometers, is 
wholly inconceivable. We can reason about a line," he admits, " as if it 
had no breadth ; " but this is only because we have a power of attending to 
•Apart of our perception or conception, instead of the whole. The conclu- 
sion, therefore, in geometry, is only so far an approximation to the truth, as 
the points, lines, circles, etc., which are described in the definitions, are 
approximations to the real Lines, circles, etc., which actually exist. 

" The peculiar accuracy," continues Mr. Mill, " supposed to be charac- 
teristic of the first principles of geometry, thus appears to be fictitious. 
The assertions, on which the reasonings of the science are founded, do not, 
any more than in other sciences, exactly correspond with the fact ; but we 
suppose that they do so, for the sake of tracing the consequences which fol- 
low from the supposition. The opinion of Dugald Stewart respecting the 
foundations of geometry, is, I conceive, substantially correct; — that it is 
built upon hypotheses ; that it owes to this alone the peculiar certainty 
supposed to distinguish it ; and that, in any science whatever, by reasoning 
from a set of hypotheses, we may obtain a body of conclusions as certain 
as those of geometry; — that is, as strictly in accordance with the hypoth- 
eses, and as irresistibly compelling assent on condition that those hypotheses 
arc true. When, therefore, it is affirmed that the conclusions of geometry 
are necessary truths, the necessity consists in reality only in this, that they 
necessarily follow from the suppositions from which they are deduced. 
These suppositions are so far from being necessary, that they are not even 
true ; they purposely depart, more or less widely, from the truth." — 
Mill's Logic, Am. ed. pp. 148-151. 



REASON. 389 

either to Locke, to Reid, or to Campbell,) that furnishes, if I 
mistake not, the true explanation of the peculiarity already 
remarked in mathematical evidence. 

But the truth of the axioms is presupposed or implied in all our 
reasonings. — After what has been just stated, it is scarcely 
necessary for me again to repeat, with regard to mathematical 
axioms, that although they are not the principles of our reason- 
ing, either in arithmetic or in geometry, their truth is supposed 
or implied in all our reasonings in both ; and, if it were called 
in question, our further progress would be impossible. In both 
of these respects, we shall find them analogous to the other 
classes of primary or elemental truths, which remain to be con- 
sidered. 

Nor let it be imagined, from this concession, that the dispute 
turns merely on the meaning annexed to the word principle. 
It turns upon an important question of fact ; whether the 
theorems of geometry rest on the axioms, in the same sense in 
which they rest on the definitions ? or (to state the question in 
a manner still more obvious) whether axioms hold a place 
in geometry at all analogous to what is occupied in natural 
philosophy, by those sensible phenomena which form the basis 
of that science? Dr. Reid compares them sometimes to the 
one set of propositions, and sometimes to the other. If the 
foregoing observations be just, they bear no analogy to either. 

What are l first principles' in science. — The difference 
of opinion between Locke and Reid, of which I took notice in 
the foregoing part of this section, appears greater than it really 
is, in consequence of an ambiguity in the word principle, as 
employed by the latter. In its proper acceptation, it seems to 
me to denote an assumption, (whether resting on fact or on 
hypothesis,) upon which, as a datum, a train of reasoning pro- 
ceeds ; and for the falsity or incorrectness of which, no logical 
rigor in the subsequent process can compensate. Thus the 
gravity and the elasticity of the air, are principles of reasoning 
in our speculations about the barometer. The equality of the 
angles of incidence and reflection ; the proportionality of the 
bines of incidence and refraction ; are principles of reasoning in 

33* 



390 REASON. 

catoptrics and in dioptrics. In a sense perfectly analogous to 
this, the definitions of geometry (all of which are merely hy- 
pothetical) are the first principles of reasoning in the subse- 
quent demonstrations, and the basis on which the whole fabric 
of the science rests. 

I have called this the proper acceptation of the word, be- 
cause it is that in which it is most frequently used by the best 
writers. It is also most agreeable to the literal meaning which 
its etymology suggests, expressing the original point from which 
our reasoning sets out or commences. 

Dr. Reid often uses the word in this sense, as, for example, 
in the following sentence : " From three or four axioms, which 
he calls regulce philosophandi, together with the phenomena 
observed by the senses, which he likewise lays down as first 
principles, Newton deduces, by strict reasoning, the proposi- 
tions contained in the third book of his Principia, and in his 
Optics." 

Another signification of ' first principles? — On other occa- 
sions, he uses the same word to denote those elemental truths (if 
I may use the expression) which are virtually taken for granted 
or assumed, in every step of our reasoning ; and without which, 
although no consequences can be directly inferred from them, a 
train of reasoning would be impossible. Of this kind, in mathe- 
matics, are the axioms, or (as Mr. Locke and others frequently 
call them) the maxims ; in physics, a belief of the continuance 
of the Laws of Nature ; in all our reasonings, without excep- 
tion, a belief in our own identity, and in the evidence of mem- 
ory. Such truths are the last elements into which reasoning 
resolves itself, when subjected to a metaphysical analysis, and 
which no person but a metaphysician or a logician ever thinks 
of stating in the form of propositions, or even of expressing 
verbally to himself. It is to truths of this description, that 
Locke seems, in general, to apply the name of maxims ; and, 
in this sense, it is unquestionably true, that no science {not even 
geometry) is founded on maxims as its first principles. 

Distinction between principles of reasoning and elements of 
reasoning. — In one sense of the word principle, indeed, max 



REASON. 301 

ims may be called principles of reasoning ; for the words prin- 
ciples and elements are sometimes used as synonymous. Nor 
do I take upon me to say that this mode of speaking is excep- 
tionable. All that I assert is, that they cannot be called princi- 
ples of reasoning, in the sense which has just now been defined; 
and that accuracy requires, that the word, on which the whole 
question hinges, should not be used in both senses, in the course 
of the same argument. It is for this reason, that I have em- 
ployed the phrase principles of reasoning on the one occasion, 
and elements of reasoning on the other. 

It is difficult to find unexceptionable language, to mark dis- 
tinctions so completely foreign to the ordinary purposes of 
speech ; but, in the present instance, the line of separation is 
strongly and clearly drawn by this criterion, — that from prin- 
ciples of reasoning, consequences may be deduced ; from what I 
have called elements of reasoning, none ever can. 

A process of logical reasoning has often been likened to a 
chain supporting a weight. If this similitude be adopted, the 
axioms, or elemental truths now mentioned, may be compared 
to the successive concatenations which connect the different 
links immediately with each other ; the principles of our rea- 
soning resemble the hook, or rather the beam, from which the 
whole is suspended.* 



* D'Alembert has defined the word principle exactly in the sense in 
which I have used it; and has expressed himself (at least on one occa- 
sion) nearly as I have done, on the subject of axioms. 

" What, then, are the truths which are entitled to have a place in the 
elements of philosophy ? They are of two kinds ; those which form the 
head of each part of the chain, and those which are to be found at the 
points where different branches of the chain unite together. 

" Truths of the first kind are distinguished by this, — that they do not 
depend on any other truths, and that they possess within themselves the 
whole grounds of their evidence. Some of my readers will be apt to 
suppose, that I here mean to speak of axioms ; but these are not the truths 
which I have at present in view. With respect to this last class of princi- 
ples, I must refer to what I have elsewhere said of them ; that, notwith- 
standing their truth, they add nothing to our information ; and that the 
palpable evidence which accompanies them, amounts to nothing more 



Sii2 REASON. 

III. Of certain laws of belief inseparably connected with the 
exercise of consciousness, memory, perception, and reasoning. — ■ 
1. It is by the immediate evidence of consciousness,* that we 
are assured of the present existence of our various sensations, 
whether pleasant or painful ; of all our affections, passions, 
hopes, fears, desires, and volitions. It is thus, too, we are assured 
of the present existence of those thoughts which, during our 
waking hours, are continually passing through the mind, and of 
all the different effects which they produce in furnishing employ- 
ment to our intellectual faculties. 

How we come to a knowledge of our own existence. — Accord- 
ing to the common doctrine of our best philosophers, it is by the 
evidence of consciousness we are assured that we ourselves 
exist. The proposition, however, when thus stated, is not accu- 
rately true ; for our own existence, as I have elsewhere observed, 
is not a direct or immediate object of consciousness, in the strict 
and logical meaning of that term. We are conscious of sensa- 
tion, thought, desire, volition ; but we are not conscious of the 
existence of mind itself ; nor would it be possible for us to 
arrive at the knowledge of it, (supposing us to be created in the 
full possession of all the intellectual capacities which belong to 
human nature,) if no impressions were ever made on our exter- 
nal senses. The moment that, in consequence of such an im- 
pression, a sensation is excited, we learn two facts at once ; — 
the existence of the sensation, and our own existence as sentient 
beings ; — in other words, the very first exercise of conscious- 
ness necessarily implies a belief, not only of the present exist- 
ence of what is felt, but of the present existence of that which 
feels and thinks ; or (to employ plainer language) the present 
existence of that being which I denote by the words I and 
myself. Of these facts, however, it is the former alone of which 

than to an expression of the same idea, by means of two different terms. 
On such occasions, the mind only turns to no purpose about its own axis, 
without advancing forward a single step. Accordingly, axioms are so far 
from holding the highest rank in philosophy, that they scarcely deserve 
the distinction of being formally enunciated." 
\* See note to page 3.] 



REASON. 3D 3 

we can properly be said to be conscious, agreeably to the 
rigorous interpretation of the expression. A conviction of the 
latter, although it seems to be so inseparable from the exercise 
of consciousness, that it can scarcely be considered as posterior 
to it in the order of time, is yet (if I may be allowed to make 
use of a scholastic distinction) posterior to it in the order of 
nature ; not only as it supposes consciousness to be already 
awakened by some sensation, or some other mental affection ; 
but as it is evidently rather a judgment accompanying the exer- 
cise of that power, than one of its immediate intimations con- 
cerning its appropriate class of internal phenomena. It appears 
to me, therefore, more correct to call the belief of our own 
existence a concomitant, or accessory, of the exercise of con- 
sciousness, than to say, that our own existence is a fact falling 
under the immediate cognizance of consciousness, like the exist- 
ence of the various agreeable or painful sensations which 
external objects excite in our minds. 

2. Not consciousness, but memory, proves our personal identity. 
— That we cannot, without a very blamable latitude in the use 
of words, be said to be conscious of our personal identity, is a 
proposition still more indisputable ; inasmuch as the very idea 
of personal identity involves the idea of time, and, consequently, 
presupposes the exercise not only of consciousness, but of 
memory. The belief connected with this idea is implied in 
every thought and every action of the mind, and may be justly 
regarded as one of the simplest and most essential elements of 
the understanding. Indeed, it is impossible to conceive either 
an intellectual or an active being to exist without it. It is, 
however, extremely worthy of remark, with respect to this 
belief, that, universal as it is among our species, nobody but a 
metaphysician ever thinks of expressing it in words, or of reduc- 
ing into the shape of a proposition the truth to which it relates. 
To the rest of mankind, it forms, not an object of knowledge, 
but a condition or supposition, necessarily and unconsciously 
involved in the exercise of all their faculties. On a part of our 
constitution, which is obviously one of the last or primordial 
elements at which it is possible to arrive in analyzing our intel- 



394 REASON. 

lectual operations, it is plainly unphilosophical to suppose, that 
any new light can be thrown by metaphysical discussion. All 
that can be done with propriety in such cases, is to state the 
fact. 

3. Other elemental laws of thought. — The belief which all 
men entertain of the existence of the material world, (I mean 
their belief of its existence independently of that of percipient 
beings,) and their expectation of the continued uniformity of the 
laws of nature, belong to the same class of ultimate or elemental 
laws of thought with those which have been just mentioned. 
The truths which form their objects are of an order so radically 
different from what are commonly called truths, in the popular 
acceptation of that word, that it might perhaps be useful for 
logicians to distinguish them by some appropriate appellation, 
such, for example, as that of metaphysical or transcendental 
truths. They are not principles or data (as will afterwards 
appear) from which any consequence can be deduced; but form 
a part of those original stamina of human reason, which are 
equally essential to all the pursuits of science, and to all the 
active concerns of life. 

4. Confidence necessarily reposed on memory. — I shall only 
take notice further, under this head, of the confidence which we 
must necessarily repose in the evidence of memory, (and I may 
add, in the continuance of our personal identity,) when we are 
employed in carrying on any process of deduction or argumenta- 
tion ; — in following out, for instance, the steps of a long mathe- 
matical demonstration. In yielding our assent to the conclusion 
to which such a demonstration leads, we evidently trust to the 
fidelity with which our memory has connected the different links 
of the chain together. The reference which is often made, in 
the course of a demonstration, to propositions formerly proved, 
places the same remark in a light still stronger; and shows 
plainly, that, in this branch of knowledge, which is justly con- 
sidered as the most certain of any, the authority of the same 
laws of belief which are recognized in the ordinary pursuits of 
life, is tacitly acknowledged. Deny the evidence of memory as a 
ground of certain knowledge, and you destroy the foundations 



RBU30N. 395 

of mathematical science as completely as if you were to deny 
the truth of the axioms assumed by Euclid. 

The foregoing examples sufficiently illustrate the nature of 
that class of truths which I have called Fundamental Laws of 
Human Belief or Primary Elements of Human Reason. A 
variety of others, not less important, might be added to the 
list ; * but these I shall not at present stop to enumerate, as my 
chief object in introducing the subject here, was to explain the 
common relation in which they all stand to deductive evidence. 
In this point of view, two analogies, or rather coincidences, be- 
tween the truths which we have been last considering, and the 
mathematical axioms which were treated of formerly, immedi- 
ately present themselves to our notice. 

Analogies between these elemental truths and mathematical 
axioms. — 1. From neither of these classes of truths can any 
direct inference be drawn for the further enlargement of our 
knowledge. This remark has been already shown to hold uni- 
versally with respect to the axioms of geometry ; and it applies 
equally to what I have called Fundamental Laws of Human 
Belief. From such propositions as these, — I exist ; I am the 
same person to-day, that I was yesterday ; the material world has 
an existence independent of my mind ; the general laws of nature 
will continue, in future, to operate uniformly as in time past, — 
no inference can be deduced, any more than from the intuitive 
truths prefixed to the Elements of Euclid. Abstracted from 
other data, they are perfectly barren in themselves ; nor can 
any possible combination of them help the mind forward one 
single step in its progress. It is for this reason, that instead of 
calling them, with some other writers, first principles, I have dis- 
tinguished them by the title of fundamental laws of belief; the 
former word seeming to me to denote, according to common 
usage, some fact, or some supposition, from which a series of 
consequences may be deduced. 



* Such, for example, as our belief of the existence of efficient causes 
our belief of the existence of other intelligent beings besides ourselves 
etc. etc. 



396 REASON. 

If the account now given of these laws of belief be just, the 
great argument which has been commonly urged in support of 
their authority, and which manifestly confounds them with what 
are properly called principles of reasoning, is not at all appli 
cable to the subject ; or, at least, does not rest the point in dis- 
pute upon its right foundation. If there were no first princi- 
ples, (it has been said,) or, in other words, if a reason could be 
given for every thing, no process of deduction could possibly be 
brought to a conclusion.* 

The remark is indisputably true ; but it only proves (what 
no logician of the present "times will venture to deny) that the 
mathematician could not demonstrate a single theorem, unless 
he were first allowed to lay down his definitions ; nor the nat- 
ural philosopher, explain or account for a single phenomenon, 
unless he were allowed to assume, as acknowledged facts, cer- 
tain general laws of nature. What inference does this afford 
in favor of that particular class of truths to which the preced- 
ing observations relate, and against which the ingenuity of mod- 



* Aristotle himself has more than once made this remark; more partic- 
ularly in discussing the absurd question, Whether it be possible for the 
same thing to be and not to be? A.%lovci 6e tcai tovto a7rodetKvvvac -nvtq 
6C <mai&£VGLav . Eon yap airaidevcta, to firj yivcoonetv tlvov dec &]reiv anodeitjcv, 
nai tlvcjv ov dec. f OAwc fiev yap anavruv advvarov airodet^Lv ecvai. Etc 
aireipov yap av (Sadi^oi • dare firjd' otirwc etvat airodeitjiv. — Aristot. Meta- 
phys. vol. ii. p. 873. Edit, du Val. 

" But there are some who, through ignorance, make an attempt to 
prove even this principle, (that it is impossible for the same thing to be 
and not to be). For it is a mark of ignorance not to be able to distinguish 
those things which ought to be demonstrated from things of Avhich no 
demonstration should be attempted. In truth, it is altogether impossible 
that every thing should be susceptible of demonstration ; otherwise, the 
process would extend to infinity, and, after all our labor, nothing would 
be gained." In the sentence immediately preceding this quotation, Aris- 
totle calls the maxim in question, (3e(3aioTaT7} tuv apx^v izaouv, " the most 
certain of all principles." 

To the same purpose, Dr. Reid has said, " I hold it to be certain, and 
even demonstrable, that all knowledge got by reasoning, must be built on 
first principles. This," he adds, " is as certain as that every house must 
have a foundation." 



REASON. 397 

ern skeptics has been more particularly directed ? If I be not 
deceived, these truths are still more intimately connected with 
the operations of the reasoning faculty than has been generally 
imagined ; not as the principles ( apxai) from which our reason- 
ings set out, and on which they ultimately depend ; but as the nec- 
essary conditions on which every step of the deduction tacitly 
proceeds ; or rather (if I may use the expression) as essential 
elements which enter into the composition of reason itself. 

2. In this last remark, I have anticipated, in some measure, 
what I had to state with respect to the second coincidence 
alluded to, between mathematical axioms and the other propo- 
sitions which I comprehended under the general title of funda- 
mental laws of human belief. As the truth of axioms is vir- 
tually presupposed, or implied, in the successive steps of every 
demonstration, so, in every step of our reasonings concerning the 
order of nature, we proceed on the supposition, that the laws by 
which it is regulated, will continue uniform as in time past ; 
and that the material universe has an existence independent of 
our perceptions. I need scarcely add, that, in all our reasonings 
whatever, whether they relate to necessary or to contingent 
truths, our own personal identity, and the evidence of memory, 
are virtually taken for granted. These different truths all agree 
in this, that they are essentially involved in the exercise of our 
rational powers ; although, in themselves, they furnish no prin- 
ciples or data by which the sphere of our knowledge can, by an 
ingenuity, be enlarged. They agree, further, in being tacitly 
acknowledged by all men, learned or ignorant, without any formal 
enunciation in words, or even any conscious exercise of reflec- 
tion. It is only at that period of our intellectual progress, when 
scientific arrangements and metaphysical refinements begin to 
be introduced, that they become objects of attention to the 
mind, and assume the form of propositions. 

Objections to the phrase, principles of common sense. — To 
the class of truths which I have here called laws of belief, or 
elements of reason, the title of principles of common sense was 
long ago given by Father Burner, whose language and doctrine 

34 



398 REASOfc. 

concerning them bear a very striking resemblance to those of 
some of our later Scottish logicians. This, at least, strikes me 
as the meaning which these writers, in general, annex to the 
phrase ; although all of them have frequently employed it with 
a far greater degree of latitude. When thus limited in its 
acceptation, it is obviously liable, in point of scientific accuracy, 
to two very strong objections, both of which have been already 
sufficiently illustrated. The first is, that it applies the appella- 
tion of principles to laws of belief from which no inference can 
be deduced ; the second, that it refers the origin of these laws 
to common sense. Nor is this phraseology more agreeable to 
popular use than to logical precision. If we were to suppose 
an individual whose conduct betrayed a disbelief of his own 
existence, or of his own identity, or of the reality of surround- 
ing objects, it would, by no means, amount to an adequate 
description of his condition, to say, that he was destitute of com- 
mon sense. We should at once pronounce him to be destitute 
of reason, and would no longer consider him as a fit subject of 
discipline or of punishment. The former expression, indeed, 
would only imply that he was apt to fall into absurdities and 
improprieties in the common concerns of life. To denominate, 
therefore, such laws of belief as we have now been considering, 
constituent elements of human reason, while it seems quite unex- 
ceptionable in point of technical distinctness, cannot be justly 
censured as the slightest deviation from our habitual forms of 
speech. On the same grounds, it may be fairly questioned, 
whether the word Reason would not, on some occasions, be the 
best substitute which our language affords for intuition, in that 
enlarged acceptation which has been given to it of late. If 
not quite so definite and precise as might be wished, it would 
be at least employed in one of those significations in which it 
is already familiar to every ear ; whereas the meaning of intui- 
tion, when used for the same purpose, is stretched very far 
beyond its ordinary limits. And in cases of this sort, where we 
have to choose between two terms, neither of which is altogether 
unexceptionable, it will be found much safer to trust to the con- 



REASON. 399 

text for restricting, in the reader's mind, what is too general, 
than for enlarging what use has accustomed us to inter} ret in a 
sense too narrow.* 



* [In his " Account of the Life and Writings of Dr. Reid," Mr. Stewart 
remarks, " that the question about the propriety of the phrase common 
sense must be decided by an appeal to general practice ; for, although it be 
allowable, and even necessary, for a philosopher to limit the acceptation of 
words which are employed vaguely in common discourse, it is always 
dangerous to give to a word a scientific meaning essentially distinct from 
that in which it is usually understood. It has, at least, the effect of mislead- 
ing those who do not enter deeply into the subject ; and of giving a para- 
doxical appearance to doctrines, which, if expressed in more unexception- 
able terms, would be readily admitted. 

" It appears to me, that this has actually happened in the present in- 
stance. The phrase common sense, as it is generally understood, is nearly 
synonymous with mother wit, denoting that degree of sagacity, depending 
partly on original capacity, and partly on personal experience and observa- 
tion, which qualifies an individual for those simple and essential occupa- 
tions which till men are called on to exercise habitually by their common 
nature. In this acceptation, it is opposed to those mental acquirements 
which are derived from a regular education and from the study of books ; and 
refers, not to the speculative convictions of the understanding, but to that 
prudence and discretion which are the foundation of successful conduct. 
Such is the idea which Pope annexes to the word, when, speaking of good 
sense, which means only a more than ordinary share of common sense, he 
calls it 

" the gift of heaven, 
And though no science, fairly worth the seven." 

" To speak, accordingly, of appealing from the conclusions of philosophy 
to common sense, had the appearance, to title-page readers, of appealing 
from the verdict of the learned to the voice of the multitude ; or of at- 
tempting to silence free discussion, by a reference to some arbitrary and 
undefinable standard, distinct from any of the intellectual powers hitherto 
enumerated by logicians. Whatever countenance may be supposed to 
have been given by some writers to such an interpretation of this mode 
of expression, I may venture to assert that none is afforded by the works 
of Dr. Reid. The standard to which he appeals, is neither the creed of 
a particular sect, nor the inward light of enthusiastic presumption ; but 
that constitution of haman nature, without which all the business of the world 
would immediately cease; and the substance of his doctrine amounts merely 
to this, that those essential laws of belief, to which skeptics have objected when 
considered in connection with our scientific reasonings, are implied in every step 



400 REASON. 

I must add, too, in opposition to the high authorities of Dr. 
Johnson and Dr. Beattie, that, for many years past, Reason has 
been very seldom used by philosophical writers, or, indeed, by 
correct writers of any description, as synonymous with the 
power of reasoning. To appeal to the light of human reason 
from the reasonings of the schools, is surely an expression to 



we take as active beings ; and if called in question by any man in his practical 
concerns, would expose him universally to the charge of insanity." 

Sir William Hamilton adheres to the phrase Philosophy of Common Sense, 
and thus argues in favor of its strictly scientific and authoritative char- 
acter. " How, it is asked, do these primary propositions — these cognitions 
at first hand — these fundamental facts, feelings, beliefs, certify us of their 
own veracity 1 To this the only possible answer is — that as elements of 
our mental constitution — as the essential conditions of our knowledge — 
they must by us be accepted as true. To suppose their falsehood, is to 
suppose that we are created capable of intelligence, in order to be made 
the victims of delusion ; that God is a deceiver, and the root of our nature 
a lie. But such a supposition, if gratuitous, is manifestly illegitimate. 
For, on the contrary, the data of our original consciousness must, it is 
evident, in the first instance, be presumed true. It is only if proved false, 
that their authority can, in consequence of that proof be, in the second in- 
stance, disallowed. Speaking, therefore, generally, to argue from common 
sense, is simply to show, that the denial of a given proposition would 
involve the denial of some original datum of consciousness ; but as every 
original datum of consciousness is to be presumed true, that the proposi- 
tion in question, as dependent on such a principle, must be admitted. 

" Here, however, it is proper to take a distinction between the data or 
deliverances of consciousness considered simply, in themselves, as appre- 
hended facts or actual manifestations, and those deliverances considered at 
testimonies to the truth of facts beyond their own phenomenal reality. 

" Viewed under the former limitation, they are beyond all skepticism. 
For as doubt is itself only a manifestation of consciousness, it is impossi- 
ble to doubt that, what consciousness manifests it does manifest, without, in 
thus doubting, doubting that we actually doubt ; that is, without the doubt 
contradicting and therefore annihilating itself. Hence it is, that the facts 
of consciousness, as mere phenomena, are, by the unanimous confession 
of all Skeptics and Idealists, ancient and modern, placed high above the 
reach of question. 

" Though the argument from common sense is an appeal to the natural 
convictions of mankind, it is not an appeal from philosophy to blind feel- 
ing. It is only an appeal from the heretical conclusions of particular 



REASON. 401 

which no good objection can be made, on the score either of 
vagueness or of novelty. Nor has the etymological affinity be- 
tween these two words, the slightest tendency to throw any 
obscurity on the foregoing expression. On the contrary, this 
affinity may be of use in some of our future arguments, by 

philosophers, to the catholic principles of all philosophy. The prejudice 
which, on this supposition, has sometimes been excited against the argu- 
ment, is groundless. 

" Nor is it true, that the argument from common sense denies the decision 
to the judgment of philosophers, and accords it to the verdict of the vul- 
gar. Nothing can be more erroneous. We admit — nay, we maintain, as 
D'Alembert well expresses it, " that the truth in metaphysic, like the truth 
in matters of taste, is a truth of which all minds have the germ within 
themselves ; to which, indeed, the greater number pay no attention, but 
which they recognize the moment it is pointed out to them. But if, in this 
sort, all are able to understand, all are not able to instruct. The merit of 
conveying easily to others true and simple notions, is much greater than 
is commonly supposed; for experience proves how rarely this is to be 
met with. Sound metaphysical ideas are common truths which every one 
apprehends, but which few have the talent to develop. So difficult is 
it, on any subject, to make our own what belongs to every one." Or, to 
employ the words of the ingenious Lichtenberg — " Philosophy, twist the 
matter as we may, is always a sort of chemistry. The peasant employs 
all the principles of abstract philosophy, only enveloped, latent, engaged, as 
the men of physical science express it ; the philosopher exhibits the pure 
principle." 

" The first problem of Philosophy — and it is one of no easy accom- 
plishment — being thus to seek out, purify, and establish, by intellectual 
analysis and criticism, the elementary feelings or belief, in which are 
given the elementary truths of which all are in possession ; and the argu- 
ment from common sense being the allegation of these feelings or beliefs 
as explicated and ascertained, in proof of the relative truths and their 
necessary consequences ; — this argument is manifestly dependent on 
philosophy, as an art, as an acquired dexterity, and cannot, notwithstand- 
ing the errors which they have so frequently committed, be taken out of 
the hands of the philosophers. Common Sense is like Common Law. 
Each may be laid down as the general rule of decision ; but in the one 
case, it must be left to the jurist, in the other, to the philosopher, to 
ascertain what are the contents of the rule ; and though, in both instances, 
the common man may be cited as a witness, for the custom or the fact, 
in neither can he be allowed to officiate as advocate or as judge."-— 
Supplementary Dissertations to Reid, pp. 743, 744, 751, 752.] 

34* 



402 REASON. 

keeping constantly in view, the close and inseparable connection 
which will be afterwards shown to exist between the two differ- 
ent intellectual operations which are thus brought into immedi- 
ate contrast. 

Opinions of the ancients respecting the argument from uni- 
versal consent. — " Those things are to be regarded as first 
truths, [says Aristotle,] the credit of which is not derived from 
other truths, but is inherent in themselves. As for probable 
truths, they are such as are admitted by all men, or by the gen- 
erality of men, or by wise men ; and, among these last, either 
by all the wise, or by the generality of the wise, or by such of 
the wise as are of the highest authority." 

The argument from Universal Consent, on which so much 
stress is laid by many of the ancients, is the same doctrine with 
the foregoing, under a form somewhat different. It is stated 
with great simplicity and force by a Platonic philosopher, [Max- 
imus Tyrius,] in the following sentences : — 

"In such a contest, and tumult, and disagreement, (about 
other matters of opinion,) you may see this one law and lan- 
guage acknowledged by common accord. This the Greek says, 
and this the barbarian says ; and the inhabitant of the conti- 
nent, and the islander ; and the wise, and the unwise.*' 

Objection to which the argument is liable. — It cannot be 
denied, that against this summary species of logic, when em- 
ployed without any collateral lights, as an infallible touchstone 
of philosophical truth, a strong objection immediately occurs. 
By what test, it may be asked, is a principle of common sense 
to be distinguished from one of those prejudices to which the 
whole human race are irresistibly led, in the first instance, by 
the very constitution of their nature ? If no test or criterion 
of truth can be pointed out but universal consent, may not 
all those errors which Bacon has called idola tribus,* claim a 



* [Idols of the Tribe, as they are called in the fanciful nomenclature of 
Lord Bacon, are the errors and prejudices to which all men (the whole 
tribe) are liahle, because they grow out of the natural imperfections and 
biases of the human understanding. " For the light of the human intel- 



REASON. 403 

right to admission among the incontrovertible maxims of sci- 
ence ? And might not the popular cavils against the supposi- 
tion of the earth's motion, which so long obstructed the prog- 
ress of the Copernican system have been legitimately opposed, 
as a reply of paramount authority, to all the scientific reason- 
ings by which it was supported ? 

Criteria of First Truths. — It is much to be wished that this 
objection, of which Dr. Reid could not fail to be fully aware, 
had been more particularly examined and discussed in some of 
his publications, than he seems to have thought necessary. 
From different parts of his works, however, various important 
hints towards a satisfactory answer to it might be easily col- 
lected. At present, I shall only remark, that although univer- 
sality of belief is one of the tests by which, according to him, a 
principle of common sense is characterized, it is not the only 
test which he represents as essential. Long before his time, 
Father Buffie.r, in his excellent treatise on First Truths, had 
laid great stress on two other circumstances, as criteria to be 
attended to on such occasions ; and although I do not recollect 
any passage in Reid where they are so explicitly stated, yet the 
general spirit of his reasonings plainly shows, that he had them 
constantly in view, in all the practical applications of his doc* 
trine. The first criterion mentioned by Buffier is, " That the, 
truths assumed as maxims of common sense should be such, that 
it is impossible for any disputant either to defend or to attack 
them, but by means of propositions which are neither more mani- 
fest nor more certain than the propositions in question" The 



lect," says Lord Bacon, "is not dry light; but it receives diverse stains 
and hues from the will and the affections, and thus creates such sciences 
as it longs for ; for it readily believes what it wishes to be true." And 
again, " It is wrong to say, that the senses are the proper measures of 
things ; for all our perceptions, whether of sense or of the intellect, conform 
rather to the nature of the observer, than to the nature of the thing ob- 
served. The human mind is like a mirror imperfectly polished and inac- 
curately shaped, which imparts its own qualities to the objects reflected 
in it, distorting and staining them." — Nov. Organum, Aph. XLI. and 
XLIX. paraphrased.] 



404 REASON. 

second criterion is, " That their practical influence should 
extend even to those individuals who affect to dispute their 
authority." 

To these remarks of Burner, it may not be altogether super- 
fluous to add, that, wherever a prejudice is found to obtain uni- 
versally among mankind in any stage of society, this prejudice 
must have some foundation in the general principles of our 
nature, and must proceed upon some truth or fact inaccurately 
apprehended or erroneously applied. The suspense of judg- 
ment, therefore, which is proper with respect to particular opin- 
ions, till they be once fairly examined, can never justify scepti- 
cism with respect to the general laws of the human mind. Our 
belief of the sun's motion, is not a conclusion to which we are 
necessarily led by any such law, but an inference rashly drawn 
from the perceptions of sense, which do not warrant such an 
inference. All that we see is, that a relative change of position 
between us and the sun takes place ; and this fact, which is 
made known to us by our senses, no subsequent discovery of 
philosophy pretends to disprove. It is not, therefore, the evi- 
dence of perception which is overturned by the Copernican 
system, but a judgment or inference of the understanding, of 
the rashness of which every person must be fully sensible, the 
moment he is made to reflect with due attention on the circum- 
stances of the case ; and the doctrine which this system substi- 
tutes, instead of our first crude apprehensions on the subject, is 
founded, not on any process of reasoning a priori, but on the 
demonstrable inconsistency of these apprehensions with the 
various phenomena which our perceptions present to us. Had 
Copernicus not only asserted the stability of the sun, but, with 
some of the Sophists of old, denied that any such thing as mo- 
tion exists in the universe, his theory would have been precisely 
analogous to that of the non-existence of matter ; and no answer 
to it could have been thought of more pertinent and philosophi- 
cal, than that which Plato is said to have given to the same 
paradox in the mouth of Zeno, by rising up and walking before 
his eyes. 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 405 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF REASONING AND OP DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

I. Doubts with respect to Locke's distinction between the 'powers 
of intuition and reasoning. — Although, in treating of this 
branch of the philosophy of the mind, I have followed the 
example of preceding writers, so far as to speak of intuition 
and reasoning as two different faculties of the understanding, I 
am by no means satisfied that there exists between them that 
radical distinction which is commonly apprehended. Dr. Beattie, 
in his Essay on Truth, has attempted to show, that, how closely 
soever they may in general be connected, yet that this connec- 
tion is not necessary ; insomuch that a being may be conceived 
endued with the one, and at the same time destitute of the other. 
Something of this kind, he remarks, takes place in dreams and 
in madness ; in both of which states of the system, the power 
of reasoning appears occasionally to be retained in no inconsider- 
able degree, while the power of intuition is suspended or lost.* 
But this doctrine is liable to obvious and to insurmountable ob- 
jections ; and has plainly taken its rise from the vagueness of 
the phrase common sense, which the author employs, through the 
whole of his argument, as synonymous with the power of intui- 
tion. Of the indissoluble connection between the last power 

* [Locke very acutely observes, that the difference between an idiot and 
a madman consists in this ; — that a madman reasons correctly from wrong 
premises, while an idiot does not reason at all. " Thus you shall find 
a distracted man fancying himself a king, and, with a right inference, 
requiring suitable attendance, respect, and obedience ; others, who have 
thought themselves made of glass, have used the caution necessary to 
preserve such brittle bodies." Now the wrong premises that the madman 
adopts are often false sensations, as the medical men call them; as when one 



406 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

and that of reasoning, no other proof is necessary than the fol- 
lowing consideration, that, " in every step which reason makes 
in demonstrative knowledge, there must be intuitive certainty ; " 
a proposition which Locke has excellently illustrated, and which, 
since his time, has been acquiesced in, so far as I know, by 
philosophers of all descriptions. From this proposition (which, 
when properly interpreted, appears to me to be perfectly just) 
it obviously follows, that the power of reasoning presupposes the 
power of intuition; and, therefore, the only question about 
which any doubt can be entertained is, whether the power of in- 
tuition (according to Locke's idea of it) does not also imply that 
of reasoning ? My own opinion is, decidedly, that it does ; at 
least, when combined with the faculty of memory. In examin- 
ing those processes of thought which conduct the mind by a 
series of consequences from premises to a conclusion, I can 
detect no intellectual act whatever, which the joint operation of 
intuition and of memory does not sufficiently explain. 

Reasoning resolved into intuition and memory. — Before, how- 
ever, proceeding further in this discussion, it is proper for me to 
observe, by way of comment on the proposition just quoted from 
Locke, that, although " in a complete demonstration, there must 
be intuitive evidence at every step," it is not to be supposed 
that, in every demonstration, all the various intuitive judgments 
leading to the conclusion are actually presented to our thoughts. 
In by far the greater number of instances, we trust entirely to 
judgments resting upon the evidence of memory ; by the help 
of which faculty, we are enabled to connect together the most 
remote truths, with the very same confidence as if the one were 
an immediate consequence of the other. Nor does this diminish, 



fancies that he hears voices in the air, or sees spectres, the voices and the 
sights being alike unreal. These imaginary perceptions would be denomi- 
nated by Kant false intuitions ; and if this be a proper use of language, 
Beattie properly distinguishes intuition from reasoning, when he affirms that 
we can conceive of a being endued with the one, and destitute of the other. 
An insane person is such a being ; he reasons rightly, but his intuitive 
faculty is perverted. But Stewart here understands intuition to be, not a 
perception, but an instantaneous judgment.] 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 407 

in the smallest degree, the satisfaction we feel in following such 
a train of reasoning. On the contrary, nothing can be more 
disgusting than a demonstration where even the simplest and 
most obvious steps are brought forward to view ; and where no 
appeal is made to that stock of previous knowledge which 
memory has identified with the operations of reason. Still, 
however, it is true, that it is by a continued chain of intuitive 
judgments, that the whole science of geometry hangs together ; 
inasmuch as the demonstration of any one proposition virtually 
includes all the previous demonstrations to which it refers. 

Hence it appears, that, in mathematical demonstrations, we 
have not, at every step, the immediate evidence of intuition, but 
only the evidence of memory. Every demonstration, however, 
may be resolved into a series of separate judgments, either 
formed at the moment, or remembered as the results of judg- 
ments formed at some preceding period ; and it is in the arrange- 
ment and concatenation of these different judgments, or media 
of proof, that the inventive and reasoning powers of the mathe- 
matician find so noble a field for their exercise. 

With respect to these powers of judgment and of reasoning, 
as they are here combined, it appears to me, that the results of 
the former may be compared to a collection of separate stones 
prepared by the chisel for the purposes of the builder ; upon 
each of which stones, while lying on the ground, a person may 
raise himself, as upon a pedestal, to a small elevation. The 
same judgments, when combined into a train of reasoning, ter- 
minating in a remote conclusion, resemble the formerly uncon- 
nected blocks, when converted into the steps of a staircase 
leading to the summit of a tower, which would be otherwise 
inaccessible. In the design and execution of this staircase, 
much skill and invention may be displayed by the architect ; 
but, in order to ascend it, nothing more is necessary than a 
repetition of the act by which the first step was gained. The 
fact I conceive to be somewhat analogous, in the relation between 
the power of judgment, and what logicians call the discursive 
processes of the understanding. 

Reasoning is a succession of intuitive judgments. — Mr. 



408 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

Locke's language, in various parts of his Essay, seems to accord 
with the same opinion. " Every step in reasoning," he observes, 
" that produces knowledge, has intuitive certainty ; which, when 
the mind perceives, there is no more required but to remember 
it, to make the agreement or disagreement of the ideas, concern- 
ing which we inquire, visible and certain. This intuitive per- 
ception of the agreement or disagreement of the intermediate 
ideas, in each step and progression of the demonstration, must 
also be carried exactly in the mind, and a man must be sure that 
no part is left out ; which, in long deductions, and in the use of 
many proofs, the memory does not always so readily and exactly 
retain ; therefore it comes to pass, that this is more imperfect 
than intuitive knowledge, and men embrace often falsehood for 
demonstrations." 

The same doctrine is stated elsewhere by Mr. Locke, more 
than once, in terms equally explicit; and yet his language 
occasionally favors the supposition, that, in its deductive pro- 
cesses, the mind exhibits some modification of reason essentially 
distinct from intuition. The account, too, which he has given 
of their respective provinces, affords evidence that his notions 
concerning them were not sufficiently precise and settled. 
" When the mind," says he, " perceives the agreement or disa- 
greement of two ideas immediately by themselves, without the 
intervention of any other, its knowledge may be called intui- 
tive. When it cannot so bring its ideas together as, by their 
immediate comparison, and, as it were, juxtaposition, or appli- 
cation one to another, to perceive their agreement or disagree- 
ment, it is fain, by the intervention of other ideas, (one or 
more as it happens,) to discover the agreement or disagreement 
which it searches ; and this is that which we call reasoning." 
According to these definitions, supposing the equality of two 
lines, A and B, to be perceived immediately, in consequence of 
their coincidence, the judgment of the mind is intuitive. Sup- 
posing A to coincide with B, and B with C ; the relation be- 
tween A and C is perceived by reasoning. Nor is this a hasty 
inference from Locke's accidental language. That it is per- 
fectly agreeable to the foregoing definitions, as understood by 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 409 

their author, appears from the following passage, which occurs 
afterwards : " The principal act of ratiocination' is the finding 
the agreement or disagreement of two ideas, one with another, 
by the intervention of a third. As a man, by a yard, finds two 
houses to be of the same length, which could not be brought 
together to measure their equality by juxtaposition." 

This use of the words intuition and reasoning, is surely some- 
what arbitrary. The truth of mathematical axioms has always 
been supposed to be intuitively obvious ; and the first of these, 
according to Euclid's enumeration, affirms, that if A be equal to 
B, and B to C, A and C are equal. Admitting, however, 
Locke's definition to be just, it only tends to confirm what has 
been already stated with respect to the near affinity, or rather 
the radical identity, of intuition and of reasoning. When the 
relation of equality between A and B has once been perceived, 
A and B are completely identified as the same mathematical 
quantity ; and the two letters may be regarded as synonymous, 
wherever they occur. The faculty, therefore, which perceives 
the relation between A and C, is the same with the faculty 
which perceives the relation between A and B, and between 
B and C* 



* [Stewart's doctrine, that reasoning is nothing more than a series of intu- 
itive judgments, seems to be true according to one signification of the word 
reasoning, and false according to another. The word reasoning is sometimes 
used to denote a series of propositions, or syllogisms, properly arranged, 
which constitute the proof of a particular doctrine ; but it more frequently 
denotes, that act or process of the mind, by which the proper syllo- 
gisms, or intermediate propositions, are discovered and rightly put to- 
gether, so as to constitute such a proof. This effort of mind may be a 
very laborious and difficult one, and would be improperly designated by 
such a word as intuition, which implies ease and instantaneousness of 
operation. Take the geometrical theorem, that the square described on 
the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the 
squares on the two other sides ; it is proved by a series of propositions, 
the connection of each one of which with its predecessor, is seen intui- 
tively. But if the old story is true, Pythagoras was so overjoyed when, 
after long study, he had succeeded in discovering these propositions, and 
putting them together so as to constitute a proof of the theorem, that ha 
sacrificed a hecatomb of oxen to show his gratitude to the gods.] 

35 



410 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

In further confirmation of the same proposition, an appeal 
might be made to the structure of syllogisms. Is it possible to 
conceive an understanding so formed, as to perceive the truth 
of the major and of the minor propositions, and yet not to per- 
ceive the force of the conclusion ? The contrary must appear 
evident to every person who knows what a syllogism is ; or, 
rather, as in this mode of stating an argument, the mind is led 
from universals to particulars, it must appear evident, that, in 
the very statement of the major proposition, the truth of the 
conclusion is presupposed; insomuch, that it was not without 
good reason Dr. Campbell hazarded the epigrammatic, yet un- 
answerable remark, that " there is always some radical defect 
in a syllogism, which is not chargeable with that speoies of 
sophism, known among logicians by the name of petitio prin- 
cipii, or a begging of the question." 

In what respect intuition differs from reasoning. — The idea 
which is commonly annexed to intuition, as opposed to reason- 
ing, turns, I suspect, entirely on the circumstance of time. The 
former, we conceive to be instantaneous; whereas the latter 
necessarily involves the notion of succession, or of progress. 
This distinction is sufficiently precise for the ordinary purposes 
of discourse ; nay, it supplies us, on many occasions, with a 
convenient phraseology ; but in the theory of the mind, it has 
led to some mistaken conclusions, on which I intend to offer a 
few remarks in the second part of this section. 

2. Conclusions obtained by a process of deduction often mis- 
taken for intuitive judgments. — It has been frequently re- 
marked, that the justest and most efficient understandings are 
often possessed by men who are incapable of stating to others, 
or even to themselves, the grounds on which they proceed in 
forming their decisions. In some instances, I have been dis- 
posed to ascribe this to the faults of early education ; but in 
other cases, I am persuaded that it was the effect of active and 
imperious habits in quickening the evanescent processes of 
thought, so as to render them untraceable by the memory ; and 
to give the appearance of intuition to what was, in fact, the re- 
sult of a train of reasoning so rapid as to escape notice. This 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 411 

I conceive to be the true theory of what is generally called 
common sense, in opposition to book learning ; and it serves to 
account for the use which has been made of this phrase, by 
various writers, as synonymous with intuition. 

Instantaneous judgments more trustworthy than deliberately 
formed conclusions. — These seemingly instantaneous judg- 
ments have always appeared to me as entitled to a greater 
share of our confidence, than many of our more deliberate con- 
clusions ; inasmuch as they have been forced, as it were, on the 
mind by the lessons of long experience ; and are as little liable 
to be biased by temper or passion, as the estimates we form of 
the distances of visible objects. They constitute, indeed, to 
those who are habitually engaged in the busy scenes of life, a 
sort of peculiar faculty, analogous, both in its origin and in its 
use, to the coup eP ceil of the military engineer, or to the quick 
and sure tact of the medical practitioner, in marking the diag- 
nostics of disease. 

For this reason, I look upon the distinction between our intu- 
itive and deductive judgments as, in many cases, merely an 
object of theoretical curiosity. In those simple conclusions 
which all men are impelled to form, by the necessities of their 
nature, and in which we find an uniformity not less constant 
than in the acquired perceptions of sight, it is of as little conse- 
quence to the logician to spend his time in efforts to retrace the 
first steps of the infant understanding, as it would be to the 
sailor or the sportsman to study, with a view to the improve- 
ment of his eye, the Berkeleian theory of vision. In both 
instances, the original faculty and the acquired judgment are 
equally entitled to be considered as the work of nature ; and in 
both instances, we find it equally impossible to shake off her 
authority. It is no wonder, therefore, that, in popular language, 
such words as common sense and reason should be used with a 
considerable degree of latitude ; nor is it of much importance 
to the philosopher to aim at extreme nicety in defining their 
province, where all mankind, whether wise or ignorant, think 
and speak alike. 

In some rare and anomalous cases, a rapidity of judgment in 



412 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

the more complicated concerns of life, appears in individuals 
who have had so few opportunities of profiting by experience, 
that it seems, on a superficial view, to be the immediate gift of 
heaven. But, in all such instances, (although a great deal must 
undoubtedly be ascribed to an inexplicable aptitude or predis- 
position of the intellectual powers,) we may be perfectly 
assured, that every judgment of the understanding is preceded 
by a process of reasoning or deduction, whether the individual 
himself be able to recollect it or not. Of this I can no more 
doubt, than I could bring myself to believe that the arithmeti- 
cal prodigy who has, of late, so justly attracted the attention 
of the curious, is able to extract square and cube roots by an 
instinctive and instantaneous perception, because the process 
of mental calculation, by which he is led to the result, eludes 
all his efforts to recover it. 

We may often judge rightly, while we reason ill. — It is 
remarked by Mr. Hume, with respect to the elocution of 
Oliver Cromwell, that "it was always confused, embarrassed, 
and unintelligible." " The great defect, however," he adds, " in 
Oliver's speeches consisted, not in his want of elocution, but in 
his want of ideas' ; the sagacity of his actions, and the absurdity 
of his discourse, forming the most prodigious contrast that ever 
was known." " In the great variety of human geniuses," says 
the same historian, upon a different occasion, " there are some 
which, though they see their object clearly and distinctly in 
general, yet when they come to unfold its parts by discourse 
or writing, lose that luminous conception which they have before 
attained. All accounts agree in ascribing to Cromwell a tire- 
some, dark, unintelligible elocution, even when he had no inten- 
tion to disguise his meaning ; yet no man's actions were ever, in 
such a variety of difficult incidents, more decisive and judicious." 

The case here described may be considered as an extreme 
one ; but every person of common observation must recollect 
facts somewhat analogous, which have fallen under his own 
notice. Indeed, it is no more than we should expect, a, priori, 
to meet with, in every individual whose early habits have trained 
him more to the active business of the world, than to those pur- 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 413 

suits which prepare the mind for communicating to others its 
ideas and feelings with clearness and effect. 

An anecdote which I heard many years ago, of a late very 
eminent Judge, (Lord Mansfield,) has often recurred to my 
memory, while reflecting on these apparent inconsistencies of 
intellectual character. A friend of his, who possessed excellent 
natural talents, but who had been prevented, by his professional 
duties as a naval officer, from bestowing on them all the cultiva- 
tion of which they were susceptible, having been recently ap- 
pointed to the government of Jamaica, happened to express 
some doubts of his competency to preside in the Court of 
Chancery. Lord Mansfield assured him that he Would find the 
difficulty not so great as he apprehended. " Trust," lie said, 
" to your own good sense in forming your opinions ; but beware 
of attempting to state the grounds of your judgments. The 
judgment will probably be right — the argument will infallibly 
be wrong." 

From what has been said, it seems to follow, that although a 
man should happen to reason ill in support of a sound conclu- 
sion, we are by no means entitled to infer with confidence, that 
he j udged right merely by accident. It is far from being im- 
possible, that he may have committed some mistake in stating to 
others (perhaps in retracing to himself) the grounds upon which 
his judgment was really founded. Indeed, this must be the 
case, wherever a shrewd understanding in business is united 
with an incapacity for clear and luminous reasonings ; and some- 
thing of the same sort is incident, more or less, to all men (more 
particularly to men of quick parts) when they make an attempt, 
in discussions concerning human affairs, to remount to first prin- 
ciples. It may be added, that in the old, this correctness of 
judgment often remains, in a surprising degree, long after the 
discursive or argumentative power would seem, from some decay 
of attention, or confusion in the succession of ideas, to have 
been sensibly impaired by age or by disease. 

II. Of general reasoning. Of language considered as an 
instrument of thought. — In treating of abstraction, I endeav« 

35* 



414 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

ored to show that we think, as well as speak, by means 
of words, and that, without the use of language, our reasoning 
faculty, if it could have been at all exercised, must necessarily 
have been limited to particular conclusions alone. The effects, 
therefore, of ambiguous and indefinite terms are not confined to 
our communications with others, but extend to our private and 
solitary speculations. Dr. Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhet- 
oric, has made some judicious and important observations on 
this subject ; and, at a much earlier period, it drew the attention 
of Des Cartes ; who, in the course of a very valuable discus- 
sion with respect to the sources of our errors, has laid particular 
stress on those to which we are exposed from the employment 
of language as an instrument of thought. " And, lastly, in con- 
sequence of the habitual use of speech, all our ideas become 
associated with the words in which we express them ; nor do we 
ever commit these ideas to memory, without their accustomed 
signs. Hence it is, that there is hardly any one subject, of 
which we have so distinct a notion as to be able to think of it 
abstracted from all use of language ; and, indeed, as we remem- 
ber words more easily than things, our thoughts are much more 
conversant with the former than with the latter. Hence, too, it 
is, that we often yield our assent to propositions, the meaning 
of which we do not understand ; imagining that we have either 
examined formerly the import of all the terms involved in them, 
or that we have adopted these terms on the authority of others 
upon whose judgment we can rely." 

To these important considerations, it may be worth while to 
add, that whatever improvements may yet be made in language 
by philosophers, they can never relieve the student from the 
indispensable task of analyzing with accuracy the complex ideas 
he annexes to the terms employed in his reasonings. The use 
of general terms, as Locke has remarked, is learned, in many 
cases, before it is possible for us to comprehend their meaning ; 
and the greater part of mankind continue to use them through 
life, without ever being at the trouble to examine accurately 
the notions they convey. This is a study which every individual 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 415 

must carry on for himself; and of which no rules of logic (how 
useful soever they may be in directing our labors) can super- 
sede the necessity. 

Necessity of a cautious use of words. — Of the essential 
utility of a cautious employment of words, both as a medium 
of communication, and as an instrument of thought, many strik- 
ing illustrations might be produced from the history of science 
during the time that the scholastic jargon was current among 
the learned ; a technical phraseology, which was not only ill- 
calculated for the discovery of truth, but which was dexter- 
ously contrived for the propagation of error ; and which gave 
to those who were habituated to the use of it, great advantages 
in controversy, at least in the judgment of the multitude, over 
their more enlightened and candid opponents. "A blind wres- 
tler, by fighting in a dark chamber," to adopt an allusion of Des 
Cartes, " may not only conceal his defect, but may enjoy some 
advantages over those who see. It is the light of day only 
that can discover his inferiority." The imperfections of this 
philosophy, accordingly, have been exposed by Des Cartes and 
his followers, less by the force of their reasonings, than by their 
teaching men to make use of their own faculties, instead of 
groping in the artificial darkness of the schools ; and to perceive 
the folly of expecting to advance science, by ringing changes on 
words to which they annexed no clear or precise ideas. 

In consequence of the influence of these views, the attention 
of our soundest philosophers was more and more turned, dur- 
ing the course of the last century, to the cultivation of that 
branch of logic which relates to the use of words. Mr. Locke's 
observations on this subject form, perhaps, the most valuable 
part of his writings ; and, since his time, much additional light 
has been thrown upon it by Condillac and his successors. 

The art of reasoning requires something besides a language 
well contrived. — Important, however, as this branch of logic is 
in its practical applications ; and highly interesting, from its 
intimate connection with the theory of the human mind, there 
is a possibility of pushing to an erroneous and dangerous ex- 
treme the conclusions to which it has led. Condillac himself 



416 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

falls, in no inconsiderable a degree, under this censure ; having, 
upon more than one occasion, expressed himself as if he con- 
ceived it to be possible, by means of precise and definite terms, 
to reduce reasoning in all the sciences to a sort of mechanical 
operation, analogous in its nature to those which are practised 
by the algebraist on letters of the alphabet. "The art of 
reasoning (he repeats over and over) is nothing more than a 
language well arranged." 

One of the first persons, as far as I know, who objected to 
the vagueness and incorrectness of this proposition, was M. De 
Gerando ; to whom we are further indebted for a clear and sat- 
isfactory exposition of the very important fact to which it 
relates. 

" It is the distinguishing characteristic of a lively and vigor- 
ous conception," he remarks, " to push its speculative conclu- 
sions somewhat beyond their just limits. Hence, in the logical 
discussions of this estimable writer, these maxims, (stated with- 
out any explanation or restriction,) ' That the study of a science 
is nothing more than the acquisition of a language ; ' and, ' that 
a science properly treated, is only a language well contrived.' 
Hence the rash assertion, ' That mathematics possess no advan- 
tage over other sciences, but what they derive from a better 
phraseology; and that all of these might attain to the same 
characters of simplicity and of certainty, if we knew how to 
give them signs equally perfect/ " 

" The same task which must have been executed by those 
who contributed to the first formation of a language, and which 
is executed by every child when he learns to speak it, is re- 
peated over in the mind of every adult, when he makes use of 
his mother tongue ; for it is only by the decomposition of his 
thoughts, that he can learn to select the signs which he ought 
to employ, and to dispose them in a suitable order. Accord- 
ingly, those external actions which we call speaking or writing, 
are always accompanied with a philosophical process of the un- 
derstanding, unless we content ourselves, as too often happens, 
with repeating over mechanically what has been said by others. 
It is in this respect that languages, with their forms and rules, 






REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 417 

conducting (so to speak) those who use them into the path of a 
regular analysis ; tracing out to them, in a well-ordered dis- 
course, the model of a perfect decomposition, may be regarded 
in a certain sense as analytical methods. But I stop short : 
Condillac, to whom this idea belongs, has developed it too well 
to leave any hope of improving upon his statement." 

In a note upon this passage, however, M. De Gerando has 
certainly improved not a little on the statement of Condillac. 
" In asserting," says he, " that languages may be regarded as 
analytical methods, I have added the qualifying phrase, in a 
certain sense, for the word method cannot be employed here with 
exact propriety. Languages furnish the occasions and the 
means of analysis ; that is to say, they afford us assistance in 
following that method ; but they are not the method itself They 
resemble signals or finger-posts placed on a road, to enable us 
to discover our way ; and if they help us to analyze, it is be- 
cause they are themselves the results, and, as it were, the mon- 
uments, of an analysis which has been previously made ; nor do 
they contribute to keep us in the right path, but in proportion 
to the degree of judgment with which that analysis has been 
conducted." 

Visionary theories of some logicians, occasioned by their inat- 
tention to the essential distinction between mathematics and other 
sciences. — In a passage already quoted from De Gerando, he 
takes notice of what he justly calls a rash assertion of Condillac, 
" That mathematics possess no advantage over other sciences, 
but what they derive from a better phraseology ; and that all 
of these might attain to the same characters of simplicity and of 
certainty, if we knew how to give them signs equally perfect." 

Leibnitz seems to point at an idea of the same sort, in those 
obscure and enigmatical hints (not altogether worthy, in my 
opinion, of his powerful and comprehensive genius) which he 
has thrown out, about the miracles to be effected by a new art 
of his own invention ; to which art he sometimes gives the name 
of Ars Gombinatoria Characteristica, and sometimes of Ars 
Combinatoria Generalis ac Vera. In one of his letters to Mr. 
Oldenburgh, he speaks of a plan he had long been meditating, 



418 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

of treating of the science of mind by means of mathematical 
demonstrations. " Many wonderful things," he adds, " of this 
kind have occurred to me ; which, at some future period, I shall 
explain to the public with that logical precision which the sub- 
ject requires." In the same letter, he intimates his belief in 
the possibility of inventing an art, " which, with an exactitude 
resembling that of mechanism, may render the operations of 
reason steady and visible, and, in their effects on the minds of 
others, irresistible." After which he proceeds thus : — 

" Our common algebra, which we justly value so highly, is no 
more than a branch of that general art which I have here in 
view. But such as it is, it puts it out of our power to commit 
an error, even although we should wish to do so ; while it ex- 
hibits truth to our eyes like a picture stamped on paper by 
means of a machine. It must at the same time be recollected, 
that algebra is indebted for whatever it accomplishes in the 
demonstration of general theorems to the suggestions of a higher 
science ; a science which I have been accustomed to call charac- 
teristical combination; very different, however, in its nature, 
from that which these words are likely at first to suggest to the 
hearer. The marvellous utility of this art I hope to illustrate, 
both by precepts and examples, if I shall be so fortunate as to 
enjoy health and leisure. 

" It is impossible for me to convey an adequate idea of it in 
a short description. But this I may venture to assert, that no 
instrument (or organ) could easily be imagined of more power- 
ful efficacy for promoting the improvement of the human under- 
standing ; and that, supposing it to be adopted, as the common 
method of philosophizing, the time would very soon arrive, 
when we should be able to form conclusions concerning God and 
the mind, with not less certainty than we do at present concern- 
ing figures and numbers." 

How the phraseology of mathematics differs from that of the 
other sciences. — In these extracts from Leibnitz, as well as in 
that quoted from Condillac, in the beginning of this article, the 
essential distinction between mathematics and the other sciences, 
in point of phraseology, is entirely overlooked. In the former 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 419 

science, where the use of an ambiguous word is impossible, it may 
he easily conceived how the solution of a problem may be 
reduced to something resembling the operation of a mill — the 
conditions of the problem, when once translated from the com- 
mon language into that of algebra, disappearing entirely from 
the view ; and the subsequent process being almost mechanically 
regulated by general rules, till the final result is obtained. In 
the latter, the whole of the words about which our reasonings 
are conversant, admit, more or less, of different shades of mean- 
ing ; and it is only by considering attentively the relation in 
which they stand to the immediate context, that the precise idea 
of the author in any particular instance is to be ascertained. 
In these sciences, accordingly, the constant and unremitting exer- 
cise of the attention is indispensably necessary, to prevent us, at 
every step of our progress, from going astray. In following 
any train of reasoning, beyond the circle of the mathematical 
sciences, the mind must necessarily carry on, along with the 
logical deduction expressed in words, another logical process of 
a far nicer and more difficult nature; — that of fixing, with a 
rapidity which escapes our memory, the precise sense of every 
word ivhich is ambiguous, by the relation in which it stands to 
the general scope of the argument. In proportion as the lan- 
guage of science becomes more and more exact, the difficulty 
of this task will be gradually diminished ; but let the improve- 
ment be carried to any conceivable extent, not one step will have 
been gained in accelerating that era, so sanguinely anticipated 
by Leibnitz and Condillac, when our reasonings in morals and 
politics shall resemble, in their mechanical regularity, and in 
their demonstrative certainty, the investigations of algebra. The 
improvements which language receives, in consequence of the 
progress of knowledge, consisting rather in a more precise dis- 
tinction and classification of the various meanings of words, 
than gi a reduction of these meanings in point of number, the 
task of mental induction and interpretation may be rendered 
more easy and unerring ; but the necessity of this task can never 
be superseded, till every word which we employ shall be as 



420 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

fixed and invariable in its signification as an algebraical char* 
acter or as the name of a geometrical figure. 

Successful study of the moral sciences depends on the right in- 
terpretation of words. — In the mean time, the intellectual 
superiority of one man above another, in all the different 
branches of moral and political philosophy, will be found to 
depend chiefly on the success with which he has cultivated these 
silent habits of inductive interpretation — much more, in my 
opinion, than on his acquaintance with those rules which form 
the great objects of study to the professed logician. In proof 
of this, it is sufficient for . me to remind my readers, that the 
whole theory of syllogism proceeds on the supposition that the 
same word is always to be employed precisely in the same sense, 
(for otherwise, the syllogism would be vitiated by consisting of 
more than three terms) ; and, consequently, it takes for granted, 
in every rule which it furnishes for the guidance of our reason- 
ing powers, that the nicest and by far the most difficult part of 
the logical process has been previously brought to a successful 
termination. 

In treating of a different question, I have elsewhere remarked, 
that although many authors have spoken of the wonderful 
mechanism of speech, no one has hitherto attended to the far 
more wonderful mechanism which it puts into action behind the 
scene. A similar observation will be found to apply to what is 
commonly called the art of reasoning. The scholastic precepts 
which profess to teach it, reach no deeper than the very surface 
of the subject"; being all of them confined to that part of the in- 
tellectual process which is embodied in the form of verbal prop- 
ositions. On the most favorable supposition which can be 
formed with respect to them, they are superfluous and nugatory ; 
but in many cases, it is to be apprehended, that they interfere 
with the right conduct of the understanding, by withdrawing the 
attention from the cultivation of that mental logic on which the 
soundness of our conclusions essentially depends, and in the 
study of which, although some general rules may be of use, 
every man must be, in a great measure, his own master. 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 421 

Why general speculation seems intricate. — In the practical 
application of the foregoing conclusions, it cannot fail to occur, 
as a consideration equally obvious and important, that, in pro- 
portion as the objects of our reasoning are removed from the 
particular details with which our senses are conversant, the 
difficulty of these latent inductive processes must be increased. 
This is the real source of that incapacity for general specula- 
tion, which Mr. Hume has so well described as a distinguishing 
characteristic of uncultivated minds. " General reasonings 
seem intricate, merely because they are general ; nor is it easy 
for the bulk of mankind to distinguish, in a great number of 
particulars, that common circumstance in which they all agree, 
or to extract it, pure and unmixed, from the other superfluous 
circumstances. Every judgment or conclusion with them is 
particular. They cannot enlarge their views to those universal 
propositions, which comprehend under them an infinite number 
of individuals, and include a whole science in a single theorem. 
Their eye is confounded with such an extensive prospect, and 
the conclusions deduced from it, even though clearly expressed, 
seem intricate and obscure." 

Difficult, however, and even impossible, as the task of general 
speculation is to the bulk of mankind, it is nevertheless true, 
that it is the path which leads the cautious and skilful reasoner 
to all his most certain, as well as most valuable, conclusions in 
morals and in politics. If a theorist, indeed, should expect, 
that these conclusions are in every particular instance to be 
realized, he would totally misapprehend their nature and appli- 
cation ; inasmuch as they are only to be brought to an experi- 
mental test, by viewing them on an extensive scale, and con- 
tinuing our observations during a long period of time. " When 
a man deliberates," says Mr. Hume, " concerning his conduct in 
any particular affair, and forms schemes in politics, trade, 
economy, or any business in life, he never ought to draw his 
arguments too fine, or connect too long a chain of consequences 
together. Something is sure to happen that will disconcert his 
reasoning, and produce an event different from what he ex- 
pected. But when we reason upon general subjects, one may 

36 



422 SEASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

justly affirm, that our speculations can scarcely ever be too 
fine, provided they, be just ; and that the difference between a 
common man and a man of genius, is chiefly seen in the shal- 
lowness or depth of the principles on which they proceed." 
The same author afterwards excellently observes, " That gen- 
eral principles, however intricate they may seem, must always 
prevail, if they be just and sound, in the general course of 
things, though they may fail in particular cases ; and that it is 
the chief business of philosophers to regard the general course 
of things." — "I may add," continues Mr. Hume, " that it is also 
the chief business of politicians, especially in the domestic 
government of the state, where the public good, which is, or 
ought to be, their object, depends on the concurrence of a multi- 
tude of causes; not, as in foreign politics, on accidents and 
chances, and the caprices of a few persons." 

Why general rules sometimes mislead us. — To these profound 
reflections of Mr. Hume, it may be added, although the remark 
does not bear directly on our present argument, that, in the 
systematical application of general and refined rules to their 
private concerns, men frequently err from calculating their 
measures on a scale disproportionate to the ordinary duration of 
human life. This is one of the many mistakes into which pro- 
jectors are apt to fall : and hence the ruin which so often over- 
takes them, while sowing the seeds of a harvest which others 
are to reap. A few years more might have secured to them- 
selves the prize which they had in view; and changed the 
opinion of the world, (which is always regulated by the acci- 
dental circumstances of failure or of success,) from contempt 
of their folly, into admiration of their sagacity and persever- 
ance. 

. It is observed by the Comte de Bussi, that " time remedies 
all mischances ; and that men die unfortunate, only because they 
did not live long enough. Mareschal d'Estree, who died rich 
at a hundred, would have died a beggar, had he lived only to 
eighty." The maxim, like most other apophthegms, is stated in 
terms much too unqualified ; but it may furnish matter for 
many interesting reflections, to those who have surveyed with 






REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 423 

attention the characters which have passed before them on the 
stage of life ; or who amuse themselves with marking the tri- 
fling and fortuitous circumstances by which the multitude are 
decided, in pronouncing their verdicts of foresight or of improv- 
idence. 

III. Of mathematical demonstration. Of the circum- 
stance on which demonstrative evidence essentially depends. — 
The peculiarity of that species of evidence which is called dem- 
onstrative, and which so remarkably distinguishes our mathe- 
matical conclusions from those to which we are led in other 
branches of science, is a fact which must have arrested the 
attention of every person who possesses the slightest acquaint- 
ance with the elements of geometry. And yet I am doubtful 
if a satisfactory account has been hitherto given of the circum- 
stance from which it arises. Mr. Locke tells us, that " what 
constitutes a demonstration is intuitive evidence at every step ; " 
and I readily grant, that if in a single step such evidence should 
fail, the other parts of the demonstration would be of no value. 
It does not, however, seem to me that it is on this consideration 
that the demonstrative evidence of the conclusion depends, — 
not even when we add to it another which is much insisted on 
by Dr. Reid, — that, " in demonstrative evidence, our first prin- 
ples must be intuitively certain." The inaccuracy of this remark 
I formerly pointed out, when treating of the evidence of axioms ; 
on which occasion I also observed, that the first principles of 
our reasonings in mathematics are not axioms, but definitions. 
It is in this last circumstance (I mean the peculiarity of reason- 
ing from definitions) that the true theory of mathematical dem- 
onstration is to be found ; and I shall accordingly endeavor to 
explain it at considerable length, and to state some of the more 
important consequences to which it leads. 

It was already remarked in the eighth chapter, that whereas, 
in all other sciences, the propositions which we attempt to 
establish, express facts real or supposed, — in mathematics, 
the propositions which we demonstrate only assert a connection 
between certain suppositions and certain consequences. Our 
reasonings, therefore, in mathematics, are directed to an object 



424 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

essentially different from what we have in view, in any othel 
employment of our intellectual faculties; — not to ascertain 
truths with respect to actual existences, but to trace the logical 
filiation of consequences which follow from an assumed hypoth- 
esis. If from this hypothesis we reason with correctness, noth- 
ing, it is manifest, can be wanting to complete the evidence of 
the result ; as this result only asserts a necessary connection 
between the supposition and the conclusion. In the other 
sciences, admitting that every ambiguity of language were 
removed, and that every step of our deductions were rigorously 
accurate, our conclusions would still be attended with more or 
less of uncertainty; being ultimately founded on principles 
which may, or may not, correspond exactly with the fact. 

Demonstrative reasoning might be employed in the moral 
sciences. — Hence, it appears, that it might be possible, by devis- 
ing a set of arbitrary definitions, to form a science which, 
although conversant about moral, political, or physical ideas, 
should yet be as certain as geometry. It is of no moment, 
whether the definitions assumed correspond with facts or not, 
provided they do not express impossibilities, and be not incon- 
sistent with each other. From these principles a series of con- 
sequences may be deduced, by the most unexceptionable reason- 
ing; and the results obtained will be perfectly analogous to 
mathematical propositions. The terms true and false cannot 
be applied to them ; at least, in the sense in which they are ap- 
plicable to propositions relative to facts. All that can be said 
is, that they are, or are not, connected with the definitions which 
form the principles of the science ; and, therefore, if we choose 
to call our conclusions true in the one case, and false in the 
other, these epithets must be understood merely to refer to their 
connection with the data, and not to their correspondence with 
things actually existing, or with events which we expect to be 
realized in future. An example of such a science as that which 
I have now been describing, occurs in what has been called by 
some writers theoretical mechanics; in which, from arbitrary 
hypotheses concerning physical laws, the consequences are 
traced which would follow, if such was really the order of 
nature. 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 425 

In those branches of study which are conversant about moral 
and political propositions, the nearest approach which I can 
imagine to a hypothetical science, analogous to mathematics, is to 
be found in a code of municipal jurisprudence ; or rather, might 
be conceived to exist in such a code, if systematically carried into 
execution, agreeably to certain general or fundamental prin- 
ciples. Whether these principles should, or should not, be 
founded in justice and expediency, it is evidently possible, by 
reasoning from them consequentially, to create an artificial or 
conventional body of knowledge, more systematical, and, at the 
same time, more complete in all its parts, than, in the present 
state of our information, any science can be rendered, which 
ultimately appeals to the eternal and immutable standards of 
truth and falsehood, of right and wrong. This consideration 
seems to me to throw some light on the following very curious 
parallel which Leibnitz has drawn, with what justness I pre- 
sume not to decide, between the works of the Roman civilians 
and those of the Greek geometers. Few writers certainly have 
been so fully qualified as he was, to pronounce on the charac- 
teristical merits of both. 

" I have often said, that, after the writing of geometricians, 
there exists nothing which, in point of force and of subtilty, can 
be compared to the works of the Roman lawyers. And, as it 
would be scarcely possible, from mere intrinsic evidence, to 
distinguish a demonstration of Euclid's from one of Archim- 
edes or of Apollonius, (the style of all of them appearing no 
less uniform than if reason herself was speaking through their 
organs,) so also the Roman lawyers all resemble each other 
like twin-brothers ; insomuch that, from the style alone of any 
particular opinion or argument, hardly any conjecture could be 
formed with respect to the author. Nor are the traces of a 
refined and deeply meditated system of natural jurisprudence 
anywhere to be found more visible, or in greater abundance. 
And, even in those cases where its principles are departed from, 
either in compliance with the language consecrated by technical 
forms, or in consequence of new statutes, or of ancient tradi- 
tions, the conclusions which the assumed hypothesis renders it 

36* 



426 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

necessary to incorporate with the external dictates of right 
reason, are deduced with the soundest logic, and with an in- 
genuity which excites admiration. Nor are these deviations 
from the law of nature so frequent as is commonly imagined." 

I have quoted this passage merely as an illustration of the 
analogy already alluded to, between the systematical unity of 
mathematical science, and that which is conceivable in a system 
of municipal law. How far this unity is exemplified in the 
Roman code, I leave to be determined by more competent 
judges. 

The evidence of the senses not applicable in mathematics. — 
A.s something analogous to the hypothetical or conditional con- 
clusions of mathematics may thus be fancied to take place in 
speculations concerning moral or political subjects, and actually 
does take place in theoretical mechanics ; so, on the other hand, 
if a mathematician should affirm, of a general property of the 
circle, that it applies to a particular figure described on paper, 
he would at once degrade a geometrical theorem to the level of 
a fact resting ultimately on the evidence of our imperfect 
senses. The accuracy of his reasoning could never bestow on 
his proposition that peculiar evidence which is properly called 
mathematical, as long as the fact remained uncertain, whether 
all the straight lines drawn from the centre to the circumference 
of the figure were mathematically equal. 

Precision in the use of words is not the sole characteristic of 
demonstrative reasoning. — These observations lead me to remark 
a very common misconception concerning mathematical defini- 
tions ; which are of a nature essentially different from the 
definitions employed in any of the other sciences. It is usual 
for writers on logic, after taking notice of the errors to which 
we are liable in consequence of the ambiguity of words, to ap- 
peal to the example of mathematicians, as a proof of the infinite 
advantage of using, in our reasonings, such expressions only as 
have been carefully defined. Various remarks to this purpose 
occur in the writings both of Mr. Locke and of Dr. Reid. But the 
example of mathematicians is by no means applicable to the 
science ii which these eminent philosophers propose that it 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 427 

should be followed ; and, indeed, if it were copied as a model 
in any other branch of human knowledge, it would lead to errors 
fully as dangerous as any which result from the imperfections 
of language. The real fact is, that it has been copied much 
more than it ought to have been, or than would have been 
attempted, if the peculiarities of mathematical evidence had 
been attentively considered. 

That in mathematics there is no such thing as an ambiguous 
word, and that it is to the proper use of definitions we are in- 
debted for this advantage, must unquestionably be granted. 
But this is an advantage easily secured, in consequence of the 
very limited vocabulary of mathematicians, and the distinctness 
of the ideas about which their reasonings are employed. The 
difference, besides, in this respect, between mathematics and the 
other sciences, however great, is yet only a difference in degree ; 
and is by no means sufficient to account for the essential dis- 
tinction, which every person must perceive between the irresisti- 
ble cogency of a mathematical demonstration and that of any 
other process of reasoning. 

Proper use of definitions. — From the foregoing considera- 
tions it appears, that in mathematics, definitions answer two 
purposes ; first, to prevent ambiguities of language ; and, sec- 
ondly, to serve as the principles of our reasoning. It appears 
further, that it is to the latter of these circumstances, (I mean 
to the employment of hypotheses instead of facts, as the data on 
which we proceed,) that the peculiar force of demonstrative evi- 
dence is to be ascribed.* It is, however, only in the former 



* [Mr. Stewart shows with sufficient clearness, that the definitions are 
the true premises of mathematical reasoning, and that it is only upon the 
supposition or hypothesis of these definitions being granted, that the 
reasoning holds good. But he does not show very clearly why the em- 
ployment of definitions and hypotheses should give to a mathematical 
demonstration the irresistible cogency which distinguishes it from every 
other species of reasoning. In another work, the editor of this volume 
has endeavored to supply this defect by the following considerations. 

Demonstrative reasoning is employed exclusively about the relations of 
ideas, or abstract ideas, and its conclusions are always abstract; the indue- 



428 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

use of definitions, that any parallel can be drawn between 
mathematics and those branches of knowledge which relate to 
facts ; and, therefore, it is not a fair argument in proof of their 
general utility, to appeal to the unrivalled certainty of mathe- 
matical science, — a preeminence which that science derives 
from a source altogether different, though comprehended under 
the same name, and which she will forever claim as her own 
exclusive prerogative. 



tive sciences relate exclusively to matters of fact. The relations of ideas, — 
that is, of abstractions, or pure ideas, are made known to us by intuition 
or reflection. They are pure creations of the intellect ; in their uncom- 
pounded or abstract character, they are not derived from observation, and 
are therefore not perverted by that great source of error, the imperfection 
of the senses, or the limitations of our power of perception. When we 
entertain these ideas, or reason about them, the mind is closed to all out- 
ward impressions, and" freed even from the memory of their former occur- 
rence. The ideas that are contemplated then, are contemplated in their 
entireness ; for, being uncompounded, if they are apprehended at all, they 
must be perfectly apprehended, and, consequently, the relations between 
them are discerned at once, or by intuition. The office of the definition 
is to shut out the consideration of those qualities which are not included 
in the definition, because they are imperfectly known. Our attention 
being thus confined to what we know perfectly, the reasoning proceeds 
without any possibility of error. All the conclusions of pure mathemat- 
ics, pure logic, and pure reason, are metaphysical truths, and we can no 
more doubt them than we can question the accuracy of the multiplication 
table. 

When we come to investigate matters of fact, or to reason about them, 
we enter upon totally different ground. Instead of abstractions, we have 
realities ; instead of shutting out sensible evidence altogether, we are 
obliged to rely upon it exclusively ; instead of intuitions, we have obser- 
vations and experiments ; instead of demonstration, we have induction ; 
instead of the objects of inquiry being perfectly simple and uncom- 
pounded, they are made up of an unknown and unknowable number of 
elements and qualities. The imperfections of the senses come in here, to 
their full extent, as causes of possible error. The objects of physical sci- 
ence must always be imperfectly known; we. never can be sure that our 
analysis of them is perfect, or that our observation has taken in all their 
outward qualities. The attractive power of the loadstone was known for 
centuries before its polarity was discovered. Down to the times of Watt 
and Cavendish, water was supposed to be a simple element, and it figures 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 429 

Nor ought it to be forgotten, that it is in pure mathematics 
alone, that definitions can be attempted with propriety at the 
outset of our investigations. In most other instances, some pre- 
vious discussion is necessary to show, that the definitions which 
we lay down correspond with facts ; and, in many cases, the 



as such in some of the ancient theories of cosmogony ; these chemists, 
about a century ago, discovered that it was compounded of two gases. 
The chemist will tell you that it is not impossible, that it is even probable, 
that every one of the sixty substances now counted as elementary, will 
ultimately be decomposed. Of course, the vast number of compounded 
objects of which natural history takes cognizance, are still more imper- 
fectly known in their qualities and relations, than those substances which as 
yet are reckoned elementary. This limited acquaintance with the subjects 
of investigation must lead only to qualified, and, in the logical meaning 
of the term, uncertain, conclusions respecting them. 

Pure logic and pure mathematics are not so much sciences, as methods 
of scientific inquiry, or organa of investigation and proof. They are 
modes of reasoning, irrespective of the subjects or facts about which we 
reason, and therefore applicable to all subjects. In the syllogism, for 
instance, the conclusion follows with absolute certainty from the premises, 
the truth of the premises being presupposed ; whether this truth rests 
upon sensible evidence, or intuition, or a previous demonstration, is of no 
consequence. The principles of the syllogism, then, are pure abstrac- 
tions ; and the letters of the alphabet, or purely arbitrary marks, taken 
as signs of any ideas or facts whatsoever, are the most convenient nota- 
tion for expressing them. If the premises are matters of fact, or contin- 
gent truth, the conclusion will also be a matter of fact, or contingent 
truth ; only the relation between the premises and conclusion is a meta- 
physical truth, and as such is made known by intuition. 

The case is perfectly similar with mathematics, in which we employ a 
notation of the same sort. In its pure form, this science proceeds from 
abstraction to abstraction, the truth developed by it having no foundation 
in fact, and never being exemplified in the external world. If an event 
in the physical world, or a proposition founded on experience, be taken 
as a datum, or point of departure for the inquiry, however long the chain 
of mathematical reasoning may be which proceeds from it, the result at 
which we arrive, is a truth of the same order with the one which formed 
the basis of the investigation. It has lost nothing, and it has gained 
nothing, in point of logical certainty, through the process to which it has 
been subjected. — Lowell Lectures on Metaphysical and Ethical Science* 
Lecture I.| 



430 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

formation of a just definition is the end to which our inquiries 
are directed. It is very judiciously observed by Mr. Burke, in 
his Essay on Taste, that " when we define, we are in danger of 
circumscribing nature within the bounds of our own notions, 
which we often take up by hazard, or embrace on trust, or form 
out of a limited and partial consideration of the object before 
us, instead of extending our ideas to take in all that nature 
comprehends, according to her manner of combining. We are 
limited in our inquiry by the strict laws to which we have sub- 
mitted at our setting out." 

The same author adds, that " a definition may be very exact, 
and yet go but a very little way towards informing us of the 
nature of the thing defined ; " and that, " in the order of things, 
a definition, let its virtue be what it will, ought rather to follow 
than to precede our inquiries, of which it ought to be considered 
as the result." 

From a want of attention to these circumstances, and from a 
blind imitation of the mathematical arrangement in specula- 
tions where facts are involved among the principles of our 
reasonings, numberless errors in the writings of philosophers 
might be easily traced. The subject is of too great extent to 
be pursued any further here ; but it is well entitled to the 
examination of all who may turn their thoughts to the reforma- 
tion of logic. That the ideas of Aristotle himself, with respect 
to it, were not very precise, must, I think, be granted, if the 
following statement of his ingenious commentator be admitted 
as correct. 

Definitions in geometry are not founded on observation. — 
" Every general term," says Dr. Gillies, " is considered by Aris- 
totle, as the abridgment of a definition ; and every definition 
is denominated by him a collection, because it is the result 
always of observation and comparison, and often of many 
observations and of many comparisons." 

These two propositions will be found, upon examination, not 
very consistent with each other. The first, " That every general 
term is the abridgment of a definition," applies, indeed, admirably 
to mathematics ; and touches with singular precision on the 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 431 

very circumstance which constitutes, in my opinion, the peculiar 
cogency of mathematical reasoning. But it is to mathematics 
that it applies exclusively. If adopted as a logical maxim in 
other branches of knowledge, it would prove an endless source 
of sophistry and error. — The second proposition, on the other 
hand, " That every definition is the result of observation and 
comparison, and often of many observations and many compari- 
sons," however applicable to the definitions of natural history, 
and of other sciences which relate to facts, cannot, in one single 
instance, apply to the definitions of geometry; inasmuch as 
these definitions are the result neither of observations nor of 
comparisons, but are the hypotheses, or first principles, on which 
the whole science rests. 

If the foregoing account of demonstrative evidence be just, 
it follows, that no chain of reasoning whatever can deserve the 
name of a demonstration, (at least in the mathematical sense of 
that word) which is not ultimately resolvable into hypotheses or 
definitions* It has been already shown, that this is the case 
with geometry. And it is also manifestly the case with arith- 
metic, another science to which, in common with geometry, w r e 
apply the word mathematical. The simple arithmetical equa- 
tions 2 add 2 = 4 ; 2 add 3 = 5, and other elementary proposi- 
tions of the same sort, are, as was formerly observed, mere 
definitions, perfectly analogous, in this respect, to those at the 
beginning of Euclid ; and it is from a few fundamental princi- 



* Although the account given by Locke of what constitutes a demon- 
stration, be different from that which I have here proposed, he admits the 
converse of this doctrine as manifest ; viz. That if we reason accurately 
from our own definitions, our conclusions will possess demonstrative evi- 
dence ; and " hence " he observes with great truth, " it comes to pass, 
that one may often meet with very clear and coherent discourses, that 
amount yet to nothing." He afterwards remarks, that, " one may make 
demonstrations and undoubted propositions in words, and yet thereby 
advance not one jot in the knowledge of the truth of things." " Of this 
sort," he adds, " a man may find an infinite number of propositions, rea- 
sonings, and conclusions, in books of metaphysics, school-divinity, and 
some sort of natural philosophy; and, after all, know as little of God. 
spirits or bodies, as he did before he set out." 



432 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

pies which are essentially of the same description, that all the 
more complicated results in the science are derived. 

The 'problems of geometry are as hypothetical as its theorems. 
— To this general conclusion, with respect to the nature of 
mathematical demonstration, an exception may perhaps be, at 
first sight, apprehended to occur, in our reasonings concerning 
geometrical problems ; all of these reasonings, as is well known, 
resting ultimately upon a particular class of principles called 
postulates, which are commonly understood to be so very nearly 
akin to axioms, that both might, without impropriety, be com- 
prehended under the same name. " The definition of a postu- 
late," says the learned and ingenious Dr. Hutton, " will nearly 
agree also to an axiom, which is a self-evident theorem, as a 
postulate is a self-evident problem." The same author, in 
another part of his work, quotes a remark from Dr. Barrow, 
that " there is the same affinity between postulates and problems, 
as between axioms and theorems." 

In opposition to these very high authorities, I have no hesi- 
tation to assert, that it is with the definitions of Euclid, and not 
with the axioms, that the postulates ought to be compared, in 
respect of their logical character and importance ; — inasmuch 
as all the demonstrations in plane geometry are ultimately 
founded on the former, and all the constructions which it recog- 
nizes as legitimate, may be resolved ultimately into the latter. 
To this remark it may be added, that, according to Euclid's 
view of the subject, the problems of geometry are not less hypo- 
thetical and speculative, (or, to adopt the phraseology of some 
late writers, not less objects of pure reason,) than the theorems ; 
the possibility of drawing a mathematical straight line, and of 
describing a mathematical circle, being assumed in the construc- 
tion of every problem, in a way quite analogous to that in 
which the enunciation of a theorem assumes the existence of 
straight lines, and of circles corresponding to their mathematical 
definitions. The reasoning, therefore, on which the solution of a 
problem rests, is not less demonstrative than that which is em- 
ployed in proof of a theorem. Grant the possibility of the three 
operations described in the postulates, and the correctness of 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. i33 

the solution is as mathematically certain, as the truth of any 
property of the triangle or of the circle. The three postulates 
of Euclid are, indeed, nothing more than the definition of a 
circle and a straight line thrown into a form somewhat different ; 
and a similar remark may be extended to the corresponding 
distribution of propositions into theorems and problems. Not- 
withstanding the many conveniences with which this distribution 
is attended, it was evidently a matter of choice rather than 
of necessity; all the truths of geometry easily admitting of 
being moulded into either shape, according to the fancy of the 
mathematician. As to the axioms, there cannot be a doubt, 
whatever opinion may be entertained of their utility or of their 
insignificance, that they stand precisely in the same relation to 
both classes of propositions. 

How far it is true that all mathematical evidence is resolvable 
into identical propositions. — I had occasion to take notice, in 
the first section of the preceding chapter, of a theory with re- 
spect to the nature of mathematical evidence, very different 
from that which I have been now attempting to explain. Ac- 
cording to this theory (originally, I believe, proposed by Leib- 
nitz) we are taught, that all mathematical evidence ultimately 
resolves into the perception of identity ; the innumerable variety 
of propositions which have been discovered, or which remain 
to be discovered in the science, being only diversified expres- 
sions of the simple formula, a = a. 

As this account of mathematical evidence is quite irreconcil- 
able with the scope of the foregoing observations, it is necessary, 
before proceeding further, to examine its real import and 
amount ; and what the circumstances are from which it derives 
that plausibility which it has been so generally supposed to 
possess. 

Ideal superposition is the only way of proving that one space 
is equal to another. — That all mathematical evidence resolves 
ultimately into the perception of identity, has been considered 
by some as a consequence of the commonly received doctrine, 
which represents the axioms of Euclid as the first principles of 
all our subsequent reasonings in geometry. Upon this view of 

37 



434 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

the subject, I have nothing to offer in addition to what I have 
already stated. The argument which I mean to combat at 
present, is of a more subtile and refined nature ; and, at the 
same time, involves an admixture of important truth, which 
contributes not a little to the specious verisimilitude of the con- 
clusion. It is founded on this simple consideration, that the 
geometrical notions of equality and of coincidence are the same ; 
and that, even in comparing together spaces of different figures, 
all our conclusions ultimately lean with their whole weight on 
the imaginary application of one triangle to another ; — the 
object of which imaginary application is merely to identify the 
two triangles together in every circumstance connected both 
wdth magnitude and figure.* 

Of the justness of the assumption on which this argument 
proceeds, I do not entertain the slightest doubt. Whoever has 
the curiosity to examine any one theorem in the elements of 
plane geometry, in which different spaces are compared to- 
gether, will easily perceive, that the demonstration, when traced 
back to its first principles, terminates in the fourth proposition 
of Euclid's first book ; a proposition of which the proof rests 
entirely on a supposed application of the one triangle to the 
other. In the case of equal triangles which differ in figure, 
this expedient of ideal superposition cannot be directly and im- 
mediately employed to evince their equality ; but the demon- 
stration will nevertheless be found to rest at bottom on the same 
species of evidence. In illustration of this doctrine, I shall 
only appeal to the thirty-seventh proposition of the first book, 
in which it is proved that triangles on the same base, and between 



* It was probably with a view to the establishment of this doctrine, that 
some foreign elementary writers have lately given the name of identical 
triangles to such as agree with each other both in sides, in angles, and in 
area. The differences which may exist between them in respect of place, 
and of relative position (differences which do rot at all enter into the rea- 
sonings of the geometer) seem to have been considered as of so little 
account in discriminating them as separate objects of thought, that it has 
been concluded they only form one and the same triangle, in the contem- 
plation of the logician. 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 435 

the same parallels, are equal; a theorem which appears, fiom a 
very simple construction, to be only a few steps removed from 
the fourth of the same book, in which the supposed application 
of the one triangle to the other, is the only medium of com- 
parison from which their quality is inferred. 

In general, it seems to be almost self-evident, that the equality 
of two spaces can be demonstrated only by showing, either that 
the one might be applied to the other, so that their boundaries 
should exactly coincide ; or that it is possible, by a geometrical 
construction, to divide them into compartments, in such a manner, 
that the sum of parts in the one may be proved to be equal to 
the sum of parts in the other, upon the principle of superposition. 
To devise the easiest and simplest constructions for attaining 
this end, is the object to which the skill and invention of the 
geometer is chiefly directed. 

Nor is it the geometer alone who reasons upon this principle. 
If you wish to convince a person of plain understanding, who 
is quite unacquainted with mathematics, of the truth of one of 
Euclid's theorems, it can only be done by exhibiting to his eye 
operations exactly analogous to those which the geometer pre- 
sents to the understanding. A good example of this occurs in 
the sensible or experimental illustration which is sometimes 
given of the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid's first book. 
For this purpose, a card is cut into the form of a right angled 
triangle, and square pieces of card are adapted to the different 
sides ; after which, by a simple and ingenious contrivance, the 
different squares are so dissected, that those of the two sides 
are made to cover the same space with the square of the 
hypothenuse. In truth, this mode of comparison by a super- 
position, actual or ideal, is the only test of equality which it is 
possible to appeal to ; and it is from this, as seems from a pas- 
sage in Proclus to have been the opinion of Apollonius, that, in 
point of logical rigor, the definition of geometrical equality 
should have been taken.* The subject is discussed at great 



* I do not think, however, that it would be fair, on this account, to cen- 
sure Euclid for the arrangement which he has adopted, as he has thereby 



436 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

length and with much acuteness, as well as learning, in one of 
the mathematical lectures of Dr. Barrow ; to which I must 
refer those readers who may wish to see it more fully illus- 
trated. 

Identity and equality are not convertible terms. — I am strongly 
inclined to suspect, that most of the writers who have main- 
tained that all mathematical evidence resolves ultimately into 
the perception of identity have had a secret reference in their 
own minds to the doctrine just stated ; and that they have im- 
posed on themselves, by using the words identity and equality 
as literally synonymous and convertible terms. This does not 
seem to be at all consistent, either in point of expression or of 
fact, with sound logic. When it is affirmed, for instance, that 
" if two straight lines in a circle intersect each other, the rec- 
tangle contained by the segments of the one is equal to the 
rectangle contained by the segments of the other ; " can it with 
any propriety be said, that the relation between these rectangles 
may be expressed by the formula a = a ? Or, to take a case yet 



most ingeniously and dexterously tried to keep out of the view of the 
student some very puzzling questions, to which it is not possible to give a 
satisfactory answer till a considerable progress has been made in the ele- 
ments. When it is stated in the form of a self-evident truth, that magni- 
tudes which coincide, or which exactly fill the same space, are equal to one 
another, the beginner readily yields his assent to the proposition ; and 
this assent, without going any further, is all that is required in any of the 
demonstrations of the first six books ; whereas, if the proposition were 
converted into a definition, by saying, " Equal magnitudes are those which 
coincide, or which exactly fill the same space ; " the question would imme- 
diately occur, Are no magnitudes equal but those to which this test of 
equality can be applied? Can the relation of equality not subsist between 
magnitudes which differ from each other in figure ? In reply to this ques- 
tion, it would be necessary to explain the definition, by adding, That those 
magnitudes likewise are said to be equal, which are capable of being 
divided or dissected in such a manner, that the parts of the one may sever- 
ally coincide with the parts of the other ; a conception much too refined 
and complicated for the generality of students at their first outset ; and 
which, if it were fully and clearly apprehended, would plunge them at once 
into the profound speculation concerning the comparison of rectilineal 
will) curvilinear figures 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 437 

stronger, when it is affirmed, that " the area of a circle is equal 
to that of a triangle having the circumference for its base, and 
the radius for its altitude ; " would it not be an obvious paralo- 
gism to infer from this proposition, that the triangle and the circle 
are one and the same thing ? In this last instance, Dr. Barrow 
himself has thought it necessary, in order to reconcile the lan- 
guage of Archimedes with that of Euclid, to have recourse to 
a scholastic distinction between actual and potential coincidence ; 
and, therefore, if we are to avail ourselves of the principle of 
superposition, in defence of the fashionable theory concerning 
mathematical evidence, we must, I apprehend, introduce a cor- 
respondent distinction between actual and potential identity. 

That I may not be accused, however, of misrepresenting the 
opinion which I am anxious to refute, I shall state it in the 
words of an author, who has made it the subject of a particular 
dissertation ; and who appears to me to have done as much jus- 
tice to his argument as any of its other defenders. 

["All mathematical propositions are identical, and may be 
represented by this formula, a = a. They are identical truths, 
expressed in various forms, or rather they are what is called 
the principle of contradiction itself, * variously enunciated and 
involved ; as, indeed, all propositions of this sort are really in- 
volved in this principle. According to our way of understand- 
ing, such propositions differ from each other only in this, that 
some of them are reduced to the principle of contradiction, and 
resolved into it, by a long train of reasoning, others by a shorter 
one. Thus, for example, the proposition 2 -|- 2 = 4 is resolved 
immediately into this, 1 — |— 1 -}- 1 — |— 1 = 1 — |— 1 — |— 1 — |- 1 ; that is, 
the same is the same ; and, properly speaking, it ought to be 
thus enunciated, — if four things exist, then four things exist. 
For geometricians do not treat of existence directly, but it is 
introduced only by way of hypothesis. Hence the highest 
degree of certainty results to one who examines such reasoning ; 
for he observes the identity of two ideas ; and this is the evi- 



* [ The principle of contradiction is the axiom, that " it is impossible for 
the same thino- to be and not to be at the same moment."] 

37* 



438 REASONING AJSD DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

dence compelling our immediate, assent, which we call mathe- 
matical or geometrical evidence. Yet such evidence is not 
peculiar to mathematical science alone, for it arises from the 
perception of identity, and the identity of two ideas may be 
recognized, though they do not represent extension."] 

Truths must be distinguished from the evidence by which they 
are supported. — With respect to this passage I have only to 
remark, (and the same thing is observable of every other at- 
tempt which has been made to support the opinion in question,) 
that the author confounds two things essentially dhTerent ; — the 
nature of the truths which are the objects of a science, and the 
nature of the evidence by which these truths are established. 
Granting, for the sake of argument, that all mathematical prop- 
ositions may be represented by the formula a = a, it would not, 
therefore, follow, that every step of the reasoning leading to these 
conclusions, was a proposition of the same nature ; and that, to 
feel the full force of a mathematical demonstration, it is sufficient 
to be convinced of this maxim, that every thing may be truly 
predicated of itself; or, in plain English, that the same is the 
same. A paper written in cipher, and the interpretation of that 
paper by a skilful decipherer, may, in like manner, be considered 
as, to all intents and purposes, one and the same thing. They 
are so, in fact, just as much as one side of an algebraical equa- 
tion is the same thing with* the other. But does it therefore 
follow, that the whole evidence upon which the art of decipher- 
ing proceeds, resolves into the perception of identity ? 

It may be fairly questioned, too, whether it can, with strict 
correctness, be said even of the simple arithmetical equation 
2 — |— 2 = 4, that it may be represented by the formula a^a. 
The one is a proposition asserting the equivalence of two dif- 
ferent expressions; — to ascertain which equivalence may, in 
numberless cases, be an object of the highest importance. The 
other is altogether unmeaning and nugatory, and cannot, by any 
possible supposition, admit of the slightest application of a prac- 
tical nature. What opinion, then, shall we form of the proposi- 
tion a = a, when considered as the representative of such a 
formula as the binomial theorem of Sir Isaac Newton ? When 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 439 

applied to the equation 2 — |— 2 = 4, (which, from its extreme 
simplicity and familiarity, is apt to be regarded in the light of 
an axiom,) the paradox does not appear to be so manifestly 
extravagant ; but, in the other case, it seems quite impossible to 
annex to it any meaning whatever. 

The doctrine of Condillac respecting all sorts of evidence 
controverted. — I should scarcely have been induced to dwell so 
long on this theory of Leibnitz concerning mathematical evi- 
dence, if I had not observed among some late logicians, (partic- 
ularly among the followers of Condillac), a growing disposition 
to extend it to all the different sorts of evidence resulting from 
the various employments of our reasoning powers. Condillac 
himself states his own opinion on this point with the most per- 
fect confidence. [" The evidence of reason consists altogether 
in identity, as we have demonstrated. This truth must be very 
simple to have escaped the notice of all the philosophers, who 
are so much interested in establishing the grounds of the evi- 
dence which they are incessantly talking about."] 

The demonstration here alluded to, is extremely concise ; and 
if we grant the two data on which it proceeds, must be univer- 
sally acknowledged to be irresistible. The first is, " That the 
evidence of every mathematical equation is that of identity : " 
the second, " That what are called, in the other sciences, propo- 
sitions or judgments, are, at bottom, precisely of the same 
nature with equations." — But it is proper, on this occasion, to 
let our author speak for himself. 

[" But it will be said, that we reason in this way in mathe- 
matics, where the reasoning is expressed in equations ; but will 
it be so in the other sciences, where the reasoning is stated in 
propositions ? I answer, that equations, propositions, and judg- 
ments are at bottom the same* thing, and consequently, that we 
reason in the same manner in all the sciences."] 

Upon this demonstration I have no comment to offer. The 
truth of the first assumption has been already examined at suf- 
ficient length ; and the second (which is only Locke's very erro- 
neous account of judgment, stated in terms incomparably more 
exceptionable,) is too puerile to admit of refutation. It is mel- 



440 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

ancholy to reflect, that a writer, who, in his earlier years, had 
so admirably unfolded the mighty influence of language upon 
our speculative conclusions, should have left behind him, in one 
of his latest publications, so memorable an illustration of his 
own favorite doctrine. 

It was manifestly with a view to the more complete establish- 
ment of the same theory, that Condillac undertook a work, 
which has appeared since his death, under the title of La Lan- 
gue des Calculs ; and which, we are told by the editors, was 
only meant as a prelude to other labors, more interesting and 
more difficult. From the circumstances which they have stated, 
it would seem that the intention of the author was to extend to 
all the other branches of knowledge, inferences similar to those 
which he has here endeavored to establish with respect to math- 
ematical calculations ; and much regret is expressed by his 
friends, that he had not lived to accomplish a design of such 
incalculable importance to human happiness. I believe I may 
safely venture to assert, that it was fortunate for his reputation 
he proceeded no further ; as the sequel must, from the nature 
of the subject, have afforded, to every competent judge, an ex- 
perimental and palpable proof of the vagueness and fallacious- 
ness of those views by which the undertaking was suggested. 
In his posthumous volume, the mathematical precision and 
perspicuity of his details appear to a superficial reader to reflect 
some part of their own light on the general reasonings with 
which they are blended ; while to better judges, these reason- 
ings come recommended with many advantages and with much 
additional authority, from their coincidence with the doctrines 
of the Leibnitzian school. 

Condillac 's doctrine anticipated by Hobbes. — It would proba- 
bly have been not a little mortifying to this most ingenious and 
respectable philosopher, to have discovered, that, in attempting 
to generalize a very celebrated theory of Leibnitz, he had 
stumbled upon an obsolete conceit, started in this island up- 
wards of a century before. " When a man reasoneth," says 
Hobbes, " he does nothing else but conceive a sum total, from 
addition of parcels ; or conceive a remainder from subtraction 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 441 

or one sum from another ; which, if it be done by words, is con- 
ceiving of the consequence of the names of all the parts to the 
name of the whole ; or from the name of the whole and one 
part, to the name of the other part. These operations are not 
incident to number only, but to all manner of things that can 
be added together, and taken one out of another. In sum, in 
what matter soever there is place for addition and substraction, 
there also is place for reason ; and where these have no place, 
there reason has nothing at all to do. 

" Out of all which we may define what that is which is meant 
by the word reason, when we reckon it amongst the faculties of 
the mind. For reason, in this sense, is nothing but reckoning 
(that is, adding and substracting), of the consequences of gen- 
eral names agreed upon for the marking and signifying of our 
thoughts ; — I say marking them, when we reckon by ourselves ; 
and signifying, when we demonstrate or approve our reckonings 
to other men." {Leviathan, chap. 5.) 

Agreeably to this definition, Hobbes has given to the first 
part of his elements of philosophy, the title of Computatio, sive 
Logica ; evidently employing these two words as precisely 
synonymous. 

How wonderfully does this jargon agree with the assertion 
of Condillac, that all equations are propositions, and all proposi- 
tions equations ! 

These speculations, however, of Condillac and of Hobbes, 
relate to reasoning in general ; and it is with mathematical rea- 
soning alone that we are immediately concerned at present. 
That the peculiar evidence with which this is accompanied, is 
not resolvable into the perception of identity, has, I flatter my- 
self, been sufficiently proved in the beginning of this article ; 
and the plausible extension by Condillac of the very same the- 
ory to our reasonings in all the different branches of moral sci- 
ence, affords a strong additional presumption in favor of our 
conclusion. 

Evidence of the mechanical philosophy not to be confounded 
with that which is properly called demonstrative or mathemati- 
cal. — Next to geometry and arithmetic, in point of evidence 



442 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

and certainty, is that branch of general physics which is now 
called mechanical philosophy [or mechanics, simply] ; a science 
in which the progress of discovery has been astonishingly 
rapid, during the course of the last century ; and which, in the 
systematical concatenation and filiation of its elementary prin- 
ciples, exhibits every day more and more of that logical sim- 
plicity and elegance which we admire in the works of the Greek 
mathematicians. It may, I think, be fairly questioned, whether, 
in this department of knowledge, the affectation of mathemati- 
cal method has not been already carried to an excess ; the 
essential distinction between mechanical and mathematical 
truths being, in many of the physical systems which have lately 
appeared on the Continent, studiously kept out of the reader's 
view, by exhibiting both, as nearly as possible, in the same 
form. A variety of circumstances, indeed, conspire to identify 
in the imagination, and, of consequence, to assimilate in the 
mode of their statement, these two very different classes of 
propositions ; but as this assimilation, besides its obvious ten- 
dency to involve experimental facts in metaphysical mystery, is 
apt occasionally to lead to very erroneous logical conclusions, it 
becomes the more necessary, in proportion as it arises from a 
natural bias, to point out the causes in which it has originated, 
and the limitations with which it ought to be understood. 

The following slight remarks will sufficiently explain my 
general ideas on this important article of logic. 

1. As the study of the mechanical philosophy is, in a great 
measure, inaccessible to those who have not received a regular 
mathematical education, it commonly happens, that a taste for 
it is, in the first instance, grafted on a previous attachment to 
the researches of pure or abstract mathematics. Hence a nat- 
ural and insensible transference to physical pursuits, of mathe- 
matical habits of thinking ; and hence an almost unavoidable 
propensity to give to the former science that systematical con- 
nection in all its various conclusions which, from the nature of 
its first principles, is essential to the latter, but which can never 
belong to any science which has its foundations laid in facts, col- 
lected from experience and observation. 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 443 

2. Another circumstance which has cooperated powerfully 
with the former in producing the same effect, is that proneness 
to simplification which has misled the mind, more or less, in all 
its researches, and which, in natural philosophy, is peculiarly 
encouraged by those beautiful analogies which are observable 
among different physical phenomena, — analogies, at the same 
time, which, however pleasing to the fancy, cannot always be 
resolved by our reason into one general law. In a remarkable 
analogy, for example, which presents itself between the equality 
of action and reaction in the collision of bodies, and what ob- 
tains in their mutual attractions, the coincidence is so perfect, 
as to enable us to comprehend all the A T arious facts in the same 
theorem ; and it is difficult to resist the temptation which it 
seems to offer to our ingenuity, of attempting to trace it, in both 
cases, to some common principle. Such trials of theoretical 
skill, I would not be understood to censure indiscriminately ; 
but in the present instance, I am fully persuaded, that it is at 
once more unexceptionable in point of sound logic, and more 
satisfactory to the learner, to establish the fact, in particular 
cases, by an appeal to experiment ; and to state the law of 
action and reaction in the collision of bodies, as well as that 
which regulates the mutual tendencies of bodies towards each 
other, merely as general rules which have been obtained by 
induction, and which are found to hold invariably as far as our 
knowledge of nature extends. 

3. To these remarks it may be added, that even when one 
proposition in natural philosophy is logically deducible from 
another, it may frequently be expedient, in communicating the 
elements of the science, to illustrate and confirm the consequence, 
as well as the principle, by experiment. This I should appre- 
hend to be proper wherever a consequence is inferred from a 
principle less familiar and intelligible than itself; a thing which 
must occasionally happen in physics, from the complete incor- 
poration, if I may use the expression, which, in modern times, 
has taken place between physical truths, and the discoveries of 
mathematicians. The necessary effect of this incorporation was, 
to give to natural philosophy a mathematical form, and to sys- 



444 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

tematize its conclusions, as far as possible, agreeably to rules 
suggested by mathematical method. 

Arbitrary selection of the premises in mathematical reasoning. 
— In pure mathematics, where the truths which we investigate 
are all coexistent in point of time, it is universally allowed, 
that one proposition is said to be a consequence of another, only 
with a reference to our established arrangements. Thus, all the 
properties of the circle might be as rigorously deduced from any 
one general property of the curve, as from the equality of the 
radii. But it does not therefore follow, that all these arrange- 
ments would be equally convenient ; on the contrary, it is evi- 
dently useful, and indeed necessary, to lead the mind, as far as 
the thing is practicable, from what is simple to what is more 
complex. The misfortune is, that it seems impossible to carry 
this rule universally into execution ; and accordingly, in the 
most elegant geometrical treatises which have yet appeared, 
instances occur, in which consequences are deduced from prin- 
ciples more complicated than themselves. 

Such inversions, however, of what may justly be regarded as 
the natural order, must always be felt by the author as a subject 
of regret ; and, in proportion to their frequency, they detract 
both from the beauty and from the didactic simplicity of his 
general design. 

Abstract conclusions in mechanics, should be verified by ex- 
periment. — The same thing often happens in the elementary 
doctrines of natural philosophy. A very obvious example 
occurs, in the different demonstrations given by writers on 
mechanics, from the resolution of forces, of the fundamental 
proposition concerning the lever ; demonstrations in which the 
proposition, even in the simple case when the directions of the 
forces are supposed to be parallel, is inferred from a process of 
reasoning involving one of the most refined principles employed 
in the mechanical philosophy. I do not object to this arrange- 
ment as illogical ; nor do I presume to say that it is injudicious. 
I would only suggest the propriety, in such instances, of con- 
firming and illustrating the conclusion by an appeal to experi- 
ment ; an appeal which, in natural philosophy, possesses an 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 445 

authority equal to that which is generally, but very improperly, 
considered as a mathematical demonstration of physical truths. 
In pure geometry, no reference to the senses can be admitted, 
but in the way of illustration ; and any such reference, in the 
most trifling step of a demonstration, vitiates the whole. But 
in natural philosophy, all our reasonings must be grounded on 
principles for which no evidence but that of sense can be ob- 
tained; and the propositions which we establish, differ from 
each other only as they are deduced from such principles im- 
mediately, or by the intervention of a mathematical demonstra- 
tion. An experimental proof, therefore, of any particular 
physical truth, when it can be conveniently obtained, although it 
may not always be the most elegant or the most expedient way 
of introducing it to the knowledge of the student, is as rigorous 
and as satisfactory as any other ; for the intervention of a pro- 
cess of mathematical reasoning can never bestow on our conclu- 
sions a greater degree of certainty than our principles possessed. 
Excessive use of mathematical reasoning in physics. — I have 
been led to enlarge on these topics by that unqualified applica- 
tion of mathematical method to physics, which has been fashion- 
able for many years past among foreign writers, and which 
seems to have originated chiefly in the commanding influence 
which the genius and learning of Leibnitz has so long main- 
tained over the scientific taste of most European nations. In 
an account, lately published, of the Life and Writings of Dr. 
Reid, I have taken notice of some other inconveniences result- 
ing from it, still more important than the introduction of an 
unsound logic into the elements of natural philosophy ; in par- 
ticular, of the obvious tendency which it has to withdraw the 
attention from that unity of design which is the noblest employ- 
ment of philosophy to illustrate, by disguising it under the 
semblance of an eternal and necessary order, similar to what 
the mathematician delights to trace among the mutual relations 
of quantities and figures. The consequence has been, (in too 
many physical systems,) to level the study of nature, in point 
of moral interest, with the investigations of the algebraist ; — an 
effect, too, which has taken place most remarkably, where, from 

38 



446 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

the sublimity of the subject, it was least to be expected, — in 
the application of the mechanical philosophy to the phenomena 
of the heavens. But on this very extensive and important 
topic I must not enter at present. 

The opposite error, of ranking mathematics among the sciences 
of experiment and observation, confuted. — In the opposite ex- 
treme to the error which I have now been endeavoring to cor- 
rect, is a paradox, which was broached about twenty years ago 
by the late ingenious Dr. Beddoes ; and which has since been 
adopted by some writers whose names are better entitled, on a 
question of this sort, to give weight to their opinions. By the 
partizans of this new doctrine, it seems to be imagined that, so 
far from physics being a branch of mathematics, mathematics, and 
more particularly geometry, is, in reality, only a branch of physics. 
" The mathematical sciences," says Dr. Beddoes, " are sciences 
of experiment and observation, founded solely on the induction 
of particular facts ; as much so as mechanics, astronomy, optics, 
or chemistry. In the kind of evidence, there is no difference ; 
for it originates from perception in all these cases alike ; but 
mathematical experiments are more simple, and more perfectly 
within the grasp of our senses, and our perceptions of mathe- 
matical objects are clearer." 

A doctrine essentially the same, though expressed in terms 
iiot quite so revolting, has been lately sanctioned by Mr. Leslie ; 
and it is to his view of the argument that I mean to confine my 
attention at present. " The whole structure of geometry," he 
remarks, " is grounded on the simple comparison of triangles ; 
and all the fundamental theorems which relate to this compari- 
son, derive their evidence from the mere superposition of the 
triangles themselves ; a mode of proof which, in reality, is noth- 
ing but an ultimate appeal, though of the easiest and most 
familiar kind, to external observation. , '* And, in another pas- 



* Elements of Geometry and of Geometrical Analysis, etc. By Mr. 
Leslie. Edinburgh, 1809. The assertion that the whole structure of 
geometry is founded on the comparison of triangles, is expressed in terms 
too unqualified. D'Alembert has mentioned another principle M not less 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 447 

iage : " Geometry, like the other sciences which are not con- 
cerned about the operations of mind, rests ultimately on ex- 
ternal observations. But those ultimate facts are so few, so 
distinct and obvious, that the subsequent train of reasoning is 
safely pursued to an unlimited extent, without ever appealing 
again to the evidence of the senses." 

The two arguments adduced to support this doctrine. — Before 
proceeding to make any remarks on this theory, it is proper to 
premise, that it involves two separate considerations, which it is 
of material consequence to distinguish from each other. The 
first is, that extension and figure, the subjects of geometry, are 
qualities of body which are made known to us by our external 
senses alone, and which actually fall under the consideration of 
the natural philosopher, as well as of the mathematician. The 
second, that the whole fabric of geometrical science rests on the 
comparison of triangles, in forming which comparison, we are 
ultimately obliged to appeal (in the same manner as in establish- 
ing the first principles of physics) to a sensible and experimental 
proof 

1. The mathematical affections of matter are necessary and 
eternal, and therefore not dependent on the evidence of the senses. 
— In answer to the first of these allegations, it might perhaps 
be sufficient to observe, that in order to identify two sciences, it 
is not enough to state, that they are both conversant about the 
same objects ; it is necessary further to show, that in both cases, 
these objects are considered in the same point of view, and give 



fundamental, the measurement of angles by circular arches. " The funda- 
mental propositions of geometry may be reduced to two ; the measure of angles by 
circular arcs, and the principle of superposition." The same writer, however, 
justly observes, in another part of his works, that the measure of angles 
by circular arches, is itself dependent on the principle of superposition: 
and that, consequently, however extensive and important in its applica- 
tion, it is entitled only to rank with what he calls principles of a second 
order. 

Instead, therefore, of saying that the whole structure of geometry is 
grounded on the comparison of triangles, it would be more correct to say, 
that it is grounded on the principle of superposition. 



448 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

employment to the same faculties of the mind. The poet, the 
painter, the gardener, and the botanist, are all occupied, in vari- 
ous degrees and modes, with the study of the vegetable king- 
dom ; yet who has ever thought of confounding their several 
pursuits under one common name ? The natural historian, the 
civil historian, the moralist, the logician, the dramatist, and the 
statesman, are all engaged in the study of man, and of the prin- 
ciples of human nature ; yet how widely discriminated are these 
various departments of science and of art ! how different are 
the kinds of evidence on which they respectively rest ! how 
different the intellectual habits which they have a tendency to 
form ! Indeed, if this mode of generalization were to be ad- 
mitted as legitimate, it would lead us to blend all the objects of 
science into one and the same mass ; inasmuch as it is by the 
same impressions on our external senses, that our intellectual 
faculties are, in the first instance, roused to action, and all the 
first elements of our knowledge unfolded. 

In the instance, however, before us, there is a very remarkable 
specialty, or rather singularity, which renders the attempt to iden- 
tify the objects of geometrical and physical science incompara- 
bly more illogical than it would be to classify poetry with botany, 
or the natural history of man with the political history of nations. 
This specialty arises from certain peculiarities in the metaphysi- 
cal nature of those sensible qualities which fall under the consid- 
eration of the geometer ; and which led me, in a different work, to 
distinguish them from other sensible qualities (both primary and 
secondary,) by bestowing on them the title of mathematical affec- 
tions of matter. Of these mathematical affections {magnitude 
and figure) our first notions are, no doubt, derived (as well as of 
hardness, softness, roughness, and smoothness) from the exercise 
of our external senses; but it is equally certain, that when the 
notions of magnitude and figure have once been acquired, the 
mind is immediately led to consider them as attributes of space 
no less than of body : and (abstracting them entirely from the 
other sensible qualities perceived in conjunction with them,) 
becomes impressed witl an irresistible conviction, that their 
existence is necessary and eternal, and that it would remain un- 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 449 

changed if all the bodies in the universe were annihilated. It 
is not our business here to inquire into the origin and grounds 
of this conviction. It is with the fact alone that we are con- 
cerned at present ; and this I conceive to be one of the most 
obviously incontrovertible which the circle of our knowledge 
embraces. Let those explain it as they best can, who are of 
opinion, that all the judgments of the human understanding 
rest ultimately on observation and experience. 

Nor is this the only case in which the mind forms conclusions 
concerning space, to which those of the natural philosopher do 
not bear the remotest analogy. Is it from experience we learn 
that space is infinite ? or, to express myself in more unexcep- 
tionable terms, that no limits can be assigned to its immensity? 
Here is a fact, extending not only beyond the reach of our per- 
sonal observation, but beyond the observation of all created 
beings ; and a fact on which we pronounce with no less confi- 
dence, when in imagination we transport ourselves to the utmost 
verge of the material universe, than when we confine our 
thoughts to those regions of the globe which have been explored 
by travellers. How unlike those general laws which we inves- 
tigate in physics, and which, how far soever we may find them 
to reach, may still, for any thing we are able to discover to the 
contrary, be only contingent, local, and temporary.* 



* [Mr. J. S. Mill is the latest writer of authority who has maintained 
the doctrine of Beddoes and Leslie, that even pure mathematics is an 
inductive science, and depends ultimately on external observation. The 
following is a summary of his argument upon this point, though it deserves 
notice only as the attempt of a very acute reasoner to support a thesis 
which is wholly indefensible. Only a love of paradox, or the bias of a 
previously conceived theory, could induce any one to controvert the doc- 
trine of Mr. Stewart in the text, which expresses the almost unanimous 
opinion of the scientific world. 

But Mr. Mill avers that geometrical axioms " are experimental axioms 
— generalizations from observation. The proposition, ' Two straight lines 
cannot inclose a space' — or in other words, ' Two straight lines which 
have once met, do not meet again, but continue to diverge' — is an induc- 
tion from the evidence of our senses." 

When it is urged that actual observation is not needed to convince us 
38* 



450 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

It must indeed be owned, with respect to the conclusions 
hitherto mentioned on the subject of space, that they are rather 
of a metaphysical, than of a mathematical nature ; but they 
are net, on that account, the less applicable to our purpose ; for 
if the theory of Beddoes had any foundation, it would lead us 
to identify with physics the former of these sciences as well as 
the latter ; at least, all that part of the former which is em- 
ployed about space or extension, — a favorite object of meta- 
physical as well as of mathematical speculation. The truth, 
however, is, that some of our metaphysical conclusions concern- 

of the truth of this axiom, but that our assent is given merely by thinking 
of it, or as soon as we understand the meaning of the words, he answers, 
" one of the characteristic properties of geometrical forms is their capacity 
of being painted in the imagination with a distinctness equal to reality." 
These mental pictures are "just as fit subjects of geometrical experimen- 
tation as the realities themselves." " The foundations of geometry would 
therefore be laid in direct experience, even if the experiments, (which in 
this case consist merely in attentive contemplation) were practised solely 
upon what we call our ideas, — that is, upon the diagrams in our minds, 
and not upon outward objects." 

But we declare that the lines could not meet even if they were prolonged 
to infinity, — a fact which cannot be proved by actual observation, be- 
cause we cannot follow them to infinity. Mr. Mill replies, that, without 
so following them, " we may know that, if they ever do meet, or indeed 
if, after diverging from one another, they begin again to approach, this 
must take place, not at an infinite, but at a finite distance. Supposing, 
therefore, such to be the case, we can transport ourselves thither in imag- 
ination, and can frame a mental image of the appearance which one or 
both of the lines must present at that point, which we may rely upon as 
being precisely similar to the reality. Now, whether we fix our contem- 
plation upon this imaginary picture, or call to mind the generalizations we 
have had occasion to make from former ocular observation, we shall either 
way be equally satisfied, that a line which, after diverging from another 
straight line, begins to approach to it, produces the impression on our 
senses which we describe by the expression ' a bent line,' not by the ex- 
pression, 'a straight line.'" 

The first argument being thus disposed of, we proceed to the second. 
" Axioms (it is asserted) are conceived by us not only as true, but as uni- 
versally and necessarily true. Now experience cannot possibly give to 
any proposition this character. I may have seen snow a hundred times, 
and may have seen that it was white ; but this cannot give me entire 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 451 

ing space are more nearly allied to geometrical theorems than we 
might be disposed at first to apprehend ; being involved or im- 
plied in the most simple and fundamental propositions which 
occur in Euclid's Elements. When it is asserted, for example, 
that " if one straight line falls on two other straight lines, so 
as to make the two interior angles on the same side together 
equal to two right angles, these two straight lines, though indefi- 
nitely produced, will never meet ; " — is not the boundless im- 
mensity of space tacitly assumed as a thing unquestionable ? 

assurance even that all snow is white; much less, that snow must be 
white." 

The answer to this argument is really curious, as showing the writer's 
incapacity of perceiving the distinction, which is a fundamental one, be- 
tween necessary and contingent truths. " I cannot but wonder," says Mr. 
Mill, " that so much stress should be laid upon the circumstance of incon- 
ceivableness, when there is such ample experience to show, that our capac- 
ity or incapacity of conceiving a thing has very little to do with the possi- 
bility of the thing in itself; but is in truth very much an affair of accident, 
and depends upon the past history and habits of our own minds. There 
is no more generally acknowledged fact in human nature, than the extreme 
difficulty at first felt in conceiving any thing as possible, which is in contra- 
diction to long established and familiar experience, or even to old and 
familiar habits of thought." " There are remarkable instances of this 
in the history of science ; instances in which the wisest men rejected as 
impossible, because inconceivable, things which their posterity, by earlier 
practice and longer perseverance in the attempt, found it quite easy to 
conceive, and which everybody now knows to be true.". Mr. Mill pro 
ceeds to adduce, as such instances, the fact that there was a time when 
men of the most cultivated intellects could not credit the existence of anti- 
podes ; could not conceive the force of gravity acting upwards ; or that a 
body could act upon the earth at the distance of the sun or moon. 

The inference from this reasoning seems to be, that there is no proposi- 
tion now regarded as a necessary truth, which may not, at some future 
time, come to be generally disbelieved. In the future progress of knowl- 
edge, he seems to think it may be ascertained that the three angles of a 
plane triangle are not equal to two right angles ! It is certainly not impos- 
sible that the sun may not rise to-morrow ; we can easily conceive that it 
may not ; though it is a fact attested by universal experience, that, to 
every place in the torrid and temperate zones, the sun has risen once 
in every twenty-four hours. Yet who does not perceive the difference, 
in point of logical certainty, between the proposition that the sun will rise 
to-morrow, and the axiom that two straight lines cannot inclose a space" 



452 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

And is not a universal affirmation made with respect to a fact 
which experience is equally incompetent to disprove or to confirm ? 
In like manner, when it is said, that " triangles on the same 
base, and between the same parallels are equal," do we feel our- 
selves the less ready to give our assent to the demonstration, if 
it should be supposed, that the one triangle is confined within 
the limits of the paper before us, and that the other, standing 
on the same base, has its vertex placed beyond the sphere of 
the fixed stars ? In various instances, we are led, with a force 
equally imperious, to acquiesce in conclusions, which not only 
admit of no illustration or proof from the perceptions of sense, 
but which, at first sight, are apt to stagger and confound the 
faculty of imagination. It is sufficient to mention, as examples 
of this, the relation between the hyperbola and its asymptotes, 
[which are constantly approaching each other, and yet will not 
meet till they are extended to infinity] ; and the still more ob- 
vious truth of the infinite divisibility of extension. What anal- 
ogy is there between such propositions as these, and that which 
announces, that the mercury in the Torricellian tube will fall, 
if carried up to the top of a mountain ; or that the vibrations 
of a pendulum of a given length will be performed in the same 
time, while it remains in the same latitude ? Were there, in 
reality, that analogy between mathematical and physical prop- 
ositions, which Beddoes and his followers have fancied, the 
equality of the square of the hypothenuse of a right angled tri- 
angle to the squares described on the two other sides, and the 
proportion of 1, 2, 3, between the cone and its circumscribed 
hemisphere and cylinder, might, with fully as great propriety, 
be considered in the light of physical phenomena, as of geomet- 
rical theorems. Nor would it have been at all inconsistent with 
the logical unity of his work, if Mr. Leslie had annexed to his 
Elements of Geometry, a scholium concerning the final causes 
of circles and of straight lines, similar to that which, with such 
sublime effect, closes the Principia of Sir Isaac Newton.* 



* In the course of my own experience, I have met with one person, of 
no common ingenuity, who seemed seriously disposed to consider the 
truths of geometry very nearly in this light. The person I allude to was 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 453 

2. The geometer's superposition of triangles is ideal, and not 
actual. — It yet remains for me to say a few words upon that 
superposition of triangles, which is the groundwork of all our 
geometrical reasonings concerning the relations which different 
species bear to one another in respect of magnitude. And here 
I must take the liberty to remark, in the first place, that the 
fact in question has been stated in terms much too loose and 
incorrect for a logical argument. When it is said, that " all the 



James Ferguson, author of the justly popular works on Astronomy and 
Mechanics. In the year 1768, he paid a visit to Edinburgh, when I had 
not only an opportunity of attending his public course of lectures, but of 
frequently enjoying, in private, the pleasure of his very interesting conver- 
sation. I remember distinctly to have heard him say, that he had more 
than once attempted to study tbe Elements of Euclid ; but found himself 
quite unable to enter into that species of reasoning. The second proposi- 
tion of the first book he mentioned particularly, as one of his stumbling 
blocks at the very outset ; — the circuitous process by which Euclid seta 
about an operation which never could puzzle, for a single moment, any 
man who had seen a pair of compasses, appearing to him altogether capri- 
cious and ludicrous. He added, at the same time, that as there were vari- 
ous geometrical theorems of which he had daily occasion to make use, he 
had satisfied himself of their truth, either by means of his compasses and 
scale, or by some mechanical contrivances of his own invention. Of one 
of these I have still a perfect recollection; — his mechanical or experi- 
mental demonstration of the 47th proposition of Euclid's first book, by 
cutting a card so as to afford an ocular proof, that the squares of the two 
sides actually filled the same space with the square of the hypothenuse. 

To those who reflect on the disadvantages under which Mr. Eerguson 
had labored in point of education, and on the early and exclusive hold 
which experimental science had taken of his mind, it will not perhaps 
seem altogether unaccountable, that the refined and scrupulous logic of 
Euclid should have struck him as tedious, and even unsatisfactory, in 
comparison of that more summary and palpable evidence on which his 
judgment was accustomed to rest. 

" Mr. Ferguson's general mathematical knowledge," says Dr. Hutton, 
" was little or nothing. Of algebra, he understood little more than the 
notation ; and he has often told me he could never demonstrate one pro- 
position in Euclid's Elements ; his constant method being to satisfy him- 
self, as to the truth of any problem, with a measurement by scale and 
compasses/ 1 — Mutton's Mathematical and Philosophical Dictionary, article 

JO/1. 



454 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

fundamental theorems which relate to the comparison of trian- 
gles, derive their evidence from the mere superposition of the 
triangles themselves," it seems difficult, or rather impossible, to 
annex to the adjective mere, an idea at all different from what 
would be conveyed, if the word actual were to be substituted in 
its place ; more especially, when we attend to the assertion 
which immediately follows, that " this mode of proof is, in real- 
ity, nothing but an ultimate appeal, though of the easiest and 
most familiar kind, to external observation." But if this be, in 
truth, the sense in which we are to interpret the statement 
quoted above, (and I cannot conceive any other interpretation 
of which it admits,) it must appear obvious, upon the slightest 
reflection, that the statement proceeds upon a total misappre- 
hension of the principle of superposition ; inasmuch as it is not 
to an actual or mere superposition, but to an imaginary or ideal 
one, that any appeal is ever made by the geometer. Between 
these two modes of proof the difference is not only wide, but 
radical and essential. The one would, indeed, level geometry 
with physics, in point of evidence, by building the whole of its 
reasoning on a fact ascertained by mechanical measurement ; 
the other is addressed to the understanding, and to the under- 
standing alone, and is as rigorously conclusive as it is possible 
for demonstration to be.* 



* The same remark was, more than fifty years ago, made by D'Alem- 
bert, in reply to some mathematicians on the Continent, who, it would 
appear, had then adopted a paradox very nearly approaching to that 
which I am now combating. " Le principe de la superposition n'est point, 
corame l'ont pretendu plusieurs geometres, une methode de demontrer 
peu exacte et purement mecanique. La superposition, telle que les math- 
ematieiens la concoivent, ne consiste pas a appliquer grossierement une 
figure sur une autre, pour juger par les yeux de leur egalite ou de leur 
difference, comme un ouvrier applique son pie sur une ligne pour la 
mesurer ; elle consiste a imaginer une figure transported sur une autre, et 
a conclure de V egalite supposee de certaines parties de deux figures, la 
coincidence de ces parties entr'elles, et de leur coincidence la coincidence 
du reste : d'oii resulto l'egalite et la similitude parfaites des figures en- 
tieres." 

|" The principle of superposition is not, as many geometers have sup- 






REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 455 

That the reasoning employed by Euclid in proof of the fourth 
proposition of his first book is completely demonstrative, will 
be readily granted by those who compare its different steps 
with the conclusions to which we were formerly led, when treat- 
ing of the nature of mathematical demonstration. In none of 
these steps is any appeal made to facts resting on the evidence 
of sense, nor, indeed, to any facts whatever. The constant ap- 
peal is to the definition of equality.* " Let the triangle A B 
C," says Euclid, " be applied to the triangle D E F ; the point 
A to the point D, and the straight line A B to the straight line 
D E ; the point B will coincide with the point E, because A B 
is equal to D E. And A B coinciding with D E, A C will 
coincide with D F, because the angle B A C is equal to the 
angle E D F." A similar remark will be found to apply to 
every remaining step of the reasoning; and, therefore, this 
reasoning possesses the peculiar characteristic which distin- 
guishes mathematical evidence from that of all the other sci- 



poscd, an inexact and purely mechanical mode of demonstration. Super- 
position in mathematics does not consist in applying one figure to the 
other, in order to judge by the eye whether they differ or coincide, just as 
a workman applies his foot-rule to a line in order to measure it ; it con- 
sists in imagining one figure placed over the other, and concluding, from 
the supposed equality of certain parts of the two figures, the coincidence 
of these parts with each other, and from their coincidence inferring tho 
coincidence of the other parts ; whence results the perfect equality and 
similitude of the whole figures."! 

About a century before the time when D'Alembert wrote these observa- 
tions, a similar view of the subject was taken by Dr. Barrow ; a writer 
who, like D'Alembert, added to the skill and originality of an inventive 
mathematician, the most refined, and, at the same time, the justest ideas 
concerning the theory of those intellectual processes which are subservient 
to mathematical reasoning. 

* It was before observed, that Euclid's eighth axiom (magnitudes which 
coincide with each other are equal) ought, in point of logical rigor, to 
have been stated in the form of a definition. In our present Argument, 
however, It is not of material consequence whether this criticism be 
adopted or not. Whether we consider the proposition in question in the 
light of an axiom or of a definition, it is equally evident, that it does not 
express a fact ascertained by observation or by experiment. 



456 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

ences, — that it rests wholly on hypotheses and definitions, and 
in no respect upon any statement of facts, true or false. The 
ideas, indeed, of extension, of a triangle, and of equality, pre- 
suppose the exercise of our senses. Nay, the very idea of 
superposition involves that of motion, and consequently (as the 
parts of space are immovable) of a material triangle. But 
where is there any thing analogous, in all this, to those sensible 
facts, which are the principles of our reasoning in physics; 
and which, according as they have been accurately or inaccu- 
rately ascertained, determine the accuracy or inaccuracy of our 
conclusions ? The material triangle itself, as conceived by the 
mathematician, is the object, not of sense, but of intellect. It is 
not an actual measure, liable to expansion or contraction, from 
the influence of heat or of cold ; nor does it require, iyi the ideal 
use which is made of it by the student, the slightest address of 
hand or nicety of eye. Even in explaining this demonstration 
for the first time to a pupil, how slender soever his capacity 
might be, I do not believe that any teacher ever thought of 
illustrating its meaning by the actual application of the one tri- 
angle to the other. No teacher, at least, would do so, who had 
formed correct notions of the nature of mathematical science. 

If the justness of these remarks be admitted, the demonstra- 
tion in question must be allowed to be as well entitled to the 
name, as any other which the mathematician can produce ; for 
as our conclusions relative to the properties of the circle, con- 
sidered in the light of hypothetical theorems, are not the less 
rigorously and necessarily true, that no material circle may any- 
where exists corresponding exactly to the definition of that 
figure, so the proof given by Euclid of the fourth proposition 
would not be the less demonstrative, although our senses were 
incomparably less acute than they are, and although no material 
triangle continued of the same magnitude for a single instant. 
Indeed, when we have once acquired the ideas of equality and 
of a common measure, our mathematical conclusions would not 
be in the least affected, if all the bodies in the universe should 
vanish into nothing. 

IV. Of OUR REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 457 

contingent truths. 1. Narrow field of demonstrative evi- 
dence. — If the account which has been given of the nature of 
demonstrative evidence be admitted, the province over which it 
extends must be limited almost entirely to the objects of pure 
mathematics. A science perfectly analogous to this, in point 
of evidence, may, indeed, be conceived, as I have already re- 
marked, to consist of a series of propositions relating to moral, 
to political, or to physical subjects ; but as it could answer no 
other purpose than to display the ingenuity of the inventor, 
hardly any thing of the kind has been hitherto attempted. 
The only exception which I can think of, occurs in the specu- 
lations formerly mentioned under the title of theoretical me- 
chanics. 

On the application of mathematics in practical geometry and 
physics. — But if the field of mathematical demonstration be 
limited entirely to hypothetical or conditional truths, whence, it 
may be asked, arises the extensive and the various utility of 
mathematical knowledge in our physical researches, and in the 
arts of life ? The answer, I apprehend, is to be found in cer- 
tain peculiarities of those objects to which the suppositions of 
the mathematician are confined ; in consequence of which pecu- 
liarities, real combinations of circumstances may fall under the 
examination of our senses, approximating far more nearly to 
what his definitions describe, than is to be expected in any other 
theoretical process of the human mind. Hence a correspond- 
ing coincidence between his abstract conclusions, and those facts 
in practical geometry and in physics which they help him to 
ascertain. 

For the more complete illustration of this subject, it may be 
observed in the first place, that although the peculiar force of 
that reasoning which is properly called mathematical, depends 
on the circumstance of its principles being hypothetical, yet if, 
in any instance, the supposition could be ascertained as actually 
existing, the conclusion might, with the very same certainty, be 
applied. If I were satisfied, for example, that in a particular 
circle drawn on paper, all the radii were exactly equal, every 
property which Euclid has demonstrated of that curve, might 

39 



458 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

be confidently affirmed to belong to this diagram. As the thing, 
however, here supposed, is rendered impossible by the imper- 
fection of our senses, the truths of geometry can never, in their 
practical applications, possess demonstrative evidence ; but only 
that kind of evidence which our organs of perception enable us 
to obtain. 

But although, in the practical applications of mathematics, the 
evidence of our conclusions differs essentially from that which 
belongs to the truths investigated in the theory, it does not 
therefore follow that these conclusions are the less important. 
In proportion to the accuracy of our data will be that of all our 
subsequent deductions ; and it fortunately happens, that the same 
imperfections of sense which limit what is physically attainable 
in the former, limit also, to the very same extent, what is prac- 
tically useful in the latter. The astonishing precision which 
the mechanical ingenuity of modern times has given to mathe- 
matical instruments, has, in fact, communicated a nicety to the 
results of practical geometry, beyond the ordinary demands of 
human life, and far beyond the most sanguine anticipations of 
our forefathers.* 



* See a very interesting and able article, in the fifth volume of the 
Edinburgh Review, on Colonel Mudge's account of the operations car- 
ried on for accomplishing a trigonometrical survey of England and Wales. 
I cannot deny myself the pleasure of quoting a few sentences. 

" In two distances that were deduced from sets of triangles, the one 
measured by General Roy in 1787, the other by Major Mudge in 1794, 
one of 24,133 miles, and the other of 38,688, the two measures agreed 
within a foot as to the first distance, and sixteen inches as to the second. 
Such an agreement, where the observers and the instruments were both 
different, where the lines measured were of such extent, and deduced 
from such a variety of data, is probably without any other example. 
Coincidences of this sort are frequent in the trigonometrical survey, and 
prove how much more good instruments, used by skilful and attentive 
observei-s, are capable of performing, than the most sanguine theorist 
could have ever ventured to foretell. 

" It is curious to compare the early essays of practical geometry with 
the perfections to which its operations have now reached, and to consider 
that, while the artist had made so little progress, the theorist had reached 



SEASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 459 

This remarkable, and indeed singular coincidence of propo- 
sitions purely hypothetical, with facts which fall under the 
examination of our senses, is owing, as I already hinted, to the 
peculiar nature of the objects about which mathematics is con- 
versant ; and to the opportunity which we have (in consequence 
of that niensurability,* which belongs to all of them) of adjust- 
ing, with a degree of accuracy approximating nearly to the 
truth, the data from which we are to reason in our practical 
operations, to those which are assumed in our theory. The 
only affections of matter which these objects comprehend are 
extension and figure ; affections which matter possesses in com- 
mon with space, and which may therefore be separated in fact, 
as well as abstracted in thought, from all its other sensible qual- 
ities. In examining, accordingly, the relations of quantity con- 
many of the sublimest heights of mathematical speculation ; that the lat 
ter had found out the area of the circle, and calculated its circumference 
to more than a hundred places of decimals, when the former could hardly 
divide an arc into minutes of a degree ; and that many excellent treatises 
had been written on the properties of curve lines, before a straight line 
of considerable length had ever been carefully drawn, or exactly meas- 
ured on the surface of the earth." 

* In an Essay on Quantity, by Dr. Reid, published in the transactions 
of the Royal Society of London, for the year 1748, mathematics is very 
correctly defined to be " the doctrine of measure." " The object of this 
science," the author observes, " is commonly said to be quantity ; in which 
case, quantity ought to be defined, what may be measured. Those who 
have defined quantity to be whatever is capable of more or less, have given 
too wide a notion of it, which has led some persons to apply mathematical 
reasoning to subjects that do not admit of it." The appropriate objects of 
this science are therefore such things alone as admit, not only of being in- 
creased and diminished, but of being multiplied and divided. In other 
words, the common quality which characterizes all of them is their men- 
surability. 

In the same essay, Dr. Reid has illustrated, with much ingenuity, a dis- 
tinction (hinted at by Aristotle) of quantity into proper and improper. 
" I call that," says he, "proper quantity, which is measured by its own kind; 
or which, of its own nature, is capable of being doubled or trebled, with- 
out taking in any quantity of a different kind as a measure of it. Thus a 
line is measured by known lines, as inches, feet, or miles ; and the length 
of a loot being known, there can be no question about the length of two 



460 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

nected with these affections, we are not liable to be disturbed 
by those physical accidents, which, in the other applications of 
mathematical science, necessarily render the result more or 
less at variance with the theory. In measuring the height of a 
mountain, or in the survey of a country, if we are at due pains 
in ascertaining our data, and if we reason from them with math- 
ematical strictness, the result may be depended on as accurate 
within very narrow limits ; and as there is nothing but the in- 
correctness of our data by which the result can be vitiated, the 
limits of possible error may themselves be assigned. But in 
the simplest applications of mathematics to mechanics or to 
physics, the abstractions which are necessary in the theory, must 
always leave out circumstances which are essentially connected 
with the effect. In demonstrating, for example, the property 
of the lever, we abstract entirely from its own weight, and con- 
sider it as an inflexible mathematical line ; — suppositions with 
which the fact cannot possibly correspond ; and for which, of 
course, allowances (which nothing but physical experience can 
enable us to judge of) must be made in practice. 

Next to practical geometry, properly so called, one of the 



feet, or of any part or multiple of a foot. This known length, by being 
multiplied or divided, is sufficient to give us a distinct idea of any length 
whatsoever. 

" Improper quantity is that which cannot be measured by its own kind, but to 
which we assign a measure in some proper quantity that is related to it. 
Thus velocity of motion, when we consider it by itself, cannot be measured. 
We may perceive one body to move faster, another slower, but we can per- 
ceive no proportion or ratio between their velocities, without taking in 
some quantity of another kind to measure them by. Having therefore 
observed, that by a greater velocity, a greater space is passed over in the 
same time, by a less velocity a less space, and by an equal velocity an 
^qual space ; we hence learn to measure velocity by the space passed over in 
a given time, and to reckon it to be in exact proportion to that ; and hav- 
ing once assigned this measure to it, we can then, and not till then, con- 
ceire one velocity exactly double, or triple, or in any proportion to another. 
We can then introduce it into mathematical reasoning, without danger of 
error or confusion; and may use it as a measure of other improper 
quantities." 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 461 

easiest applications of mathematical theory occurs in those 
branches of optics which are distinguished by the name of 
catoptrics and dioptrics. In these, the physical principles from 
which we reason are few and precisely definite, and the rest 
of the process is as purely geometrical as the Elements of 
Euclid. 

In that part of astronomy, too, which relates solely to the 
phenomena, without any consideration of physical causes, our 
reasonings are purely geometrical. The data, indeed, on which 
we proceed, must have been previously ascertained by observa- 
tion ; but the inferences we draw from these are connected with 
them by mathematical demonstration, and are accessible to all 
who are acquainted with the theory of spherics. 

In physical astronomy, the law of gravitation becomes also a 
principle or datum in our reasonings ; but, as in the celestial 
phenomena it is disengaged from the effects of the various 
other causes which are combined with it near the surface of our 
planet, this branch of physics, as it is of all the most sublime 
and comprehensive in its objects, so it seems, in a greater 
degree than any other, to open a fair and advantageous field for 
mathematical ingenuity. 

On the fundamental law of belief involved in all our reason- 
ings about contingent truths. — In the instances which have 
been last mentioned, the evidence of our conclusions resolves 
ultimately not only into that of sense, but into another law of 
belief formerly mentioned ; that which leads us to expect the 
continuance, in future, of the established order of physical phe- 
nomena. A very striking illustration of this presents itself in 
the computations of the astronomer ; on the faith of which he 
predicts, with the most perfect assurance, many centuries before 
they happen, the appearances which the heavenly bodies are to 
exhibit. The same fact is assumed in all our conclusions in 
natural philosophy ; and something extremely analogous to it 
in all our conclusions concerning human affairs. They relate, 
in both cases, not to necessary connections, but to probable or 
contingent events ; of which, how confidently soever we may 
expect them to take place, the failure is by no means perceived 

39* 



462 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

to be impossible. Such conclusions, therefore, differ essentially 
from those to which we are led by the demonstrations of pure 
mathematics, which not only command our assent to the theo- 
rems they establish, but satisfy us that the contrary suppositions 
are absurd. 

These examples may suffice to convey a general idea of the 
distinction between demonstrative and probable evidence ; and 
I purposely borrowed them from sciences where the two are 
brought into immediate contrast with each other, and where the 
authority of both has hitherto been equally undisputed. 

Before prosecuting any further the subject of probable evi- 
dence, some attention seems to be due, in the first place, to the 
grounds of that fundamental supposition on which it proceeds, — 
the stability of the order of nature. Of this important sub- 
ject, accordingly, I propose to treat at some length. 

2. Of the 'permanence or stability in the order of nature, 
which is presupposed in our reasonings concerning contingent 
truths. — In the language of modern science, the established 
order in the succession of physical events, is commonly referred 
(by a sort of figure or metaphor) to the general laws of 
nature.* It is a mode of speaking extremely convenient from 
its conciseness, but is apt to suggest to the fancy a groundless, 
and, indeed, absurd analogy between the material and the 
moral worlds. As the order of society results from the laws 
prescribed by the legislator, so the order of the universe is 
conceived to result from certain laws established by the Deity. 
Thus, it is customary to say, that the fall of heavy bodies to- 
wards the earth's surface, the ebbing and flowing of the sea, 
and the motions of the planets in their orbits, are consequences 
of the law of gravitation. But although, in one sense, this 
may be abundantly accurate, it ought always to be kept in 
view, that it is not a literal, but a metaphorical, statement of the 
truth ; a statement somewhat analogous to that poetical expres- 
sion in the sacred writings, in which God is said "to have 
given his decree to the seas, that they should not pass his com- 



* [See lote to page 6.] 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 403 

mandment." In those political associations from which the 
metaphor is borrowed, the laws are addressed to rational and 
voluntary agents, who are able to comprehend their meaning, 
and to regulate their conduct accordingly ; whereas, in the 
material universe, the subjects of our observation are under- 
stood by all men to be unconscious and passive, (that is, are un- 
derstood to be unchangeable in their state, without the influence 
of some foreign and external force ;) and consequently, the 
order so admirably maintained, amidst all the various changes 
which they actually undergo, not only implies intelligence in 
its first conception, but implies, in its continued existence, the 
incessant agency of power, executing the purposes of wise 
design. If the word law, therefore, be, in such instances, lit- 
erally interpreted, it must mean a uniform mode of operation 
prescribed by the Deity to himself; and it has accordingly 
been explained in this sense by some of our best philosophical 
writers, particularly by Dr. Clarke. In employing, however, 
the word with an exclusive reference to experimental philoso- 
phy, it is more correctly logical to consider it as merely a state- 
ment of some general fact with respect to the order of nature ; 
a fact which has been found to hold uniformly in our past expe- 
rience, and on the continuance of which, in future, the constitu- 
tion of our mind determines us confidently to rely. 

The laws of nature are not efficient causes. — After what has 
been already said, it is hardly necessary to take notice of the 
absurdity of that opinion, or rather of that mode of speaking, 
which seems to refer the order of the universe to general laws 
operating as efficient causes.* Absurd, however, as it is, there 



* [Those who have not reflected much upon the subject, are apt to 
imagine that a phenomenon is accounted for, or in other words, that its 
cause is discovered, when we have succeeded in referring it to some Law of 
Nature that was previously known, and with the operation of whicli we 
have become familiar. Thus, as Franklin discovered that the lightning is 
an electrical phenomenon, — that is, that it manifests the same appear- 
ances, and is followed by the same results, that attend the electricity which 
is developed by rubbing a glass tube, — he is popularly said to have dis- 
covered the cause of the lightning. But it should be remembered that the 



464 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

is reason to suspect, that it has, with many, had the effect of 
keeping the Deity out of view, while they were studying his 
works. To an incautious use of the same very equivocal 
phrase, may be traced the bewildering obscurity in the specula- 
tions of some eminent French writers, concerning its meta- 
physical import. Even the great Montesquieu, in the very first 
chapter of his principal work, has lost himself in a fruitless 
attempt to explain its meaning, when, by a simple statement of 



cause of electricity still remains to be ascertained. All that Franklin ac- 
complished was to refer certain phenomena, which had hitherto been iso- 
lated, or had formed a class by themselves, to a class of other phenomena, 
which seem to be better known only because they are more familiar to us, 
and can be reproduced at pleasure. 

" What is called explaining one law of nature by another," says Mr. 
Mill, " is but substituting one mystery for another ; and does nothing to 
render the general course of nature other than mysterious ; we can no 
more assign a why for the more extensive laws than for the partial ones. 
The explanation may substitute a mystery which has become familiar, and 
has grown to seem not mysterious, for one which is still strange. And 
this is the meaning of explanation, in common parlance. But the process 
with which we are here concerned, often does the very contrary ; it resolves 
a phenomenon with which we are familiar, into one of which we previously 
knew little or nothing ; as where the common fact of the fall of heavy 
bodies is resolved into a tendency of all particles of matter towards one 
another. It must be kept constantly in view, therefore, that when philoso- 
phers speak of explaining any of the phenomena of nature, they always 
mean, pointing out, not some more familiar, but merely some more gen- 
eral, phenomenon of which it is a partial exemplification." 

" The laws thus explained or resolved, are sometimes said to be ac- 
counted for ; but the expression is incorrect, if taken to mean any thing 
more than what has been already stated. In minds not habituated to 
accurate thinking, there is often a confused notion that the general laws 
are the causes of the partial ones ; that the law of general gravitation, for 
example, causes the phenomena of the fall of bodies to the earth. But 
to assert this, would be a misuse of the word cause ; terrestrial gravity is 
not an effect of general gravitation, but a case of it ; that is, one kind of 
the particular instances in which that general law obtains. To accounl 
for a law of nature means, and can mean, no more than to assign other 
laws more general, together with collocations, which laws and collocations 
being supposed, the partial law follows without any additional supposi- 
tion." — Mill's Logic, pp. 276, 277.] 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 46*> 

the essential distinction between its literal and its metaphorical 
acceptations, he might have at once cleared up the mystery. 
After telling us that " laws, in their most extensive significa- 
tion, are the necessary relations (les rapports necessaires) which 
arise from the nature of things, and that, in this sense, all 
beings have their laws ; — that the Deity has his laws ; the 
material world its laws ; intelligences superior to man their 
laws ; the brutes their laws ; man his laws ; " he proceeds to 
remark, " That the moral world is far from being so well gov- 
erned as the material ; for the former, although it has its laws, 
which are invariable, does not observe these laws so constantly 
as the latter." It is evident that this remark derives whatever 
plausibility it possesses from a play upon words ; from confound- 
ing moral laws with physical ; or, in plainer terms, from con- 
founding laws which are addressed by a legislator to intelligent 
beings, with those general conclusions concerning the established 
>rder of the universe, to which, when legitimately inferred from 
an induction sufficiently extensive, philosophers have metaphor- 
ically applied the title of Laws of Nature. In the one case, 
the conformity of the law with the nature of things does not 
at all depend on its being observed or not, but on the reasonable- 
ness and moral obligation of the law. In the other case, the 
very definition of the word law supposes that it applies uni- 
versally ; insomuch that, if it failed in one single instance, it 
would cease to be a law. It is, therefore, a mere quibble to say, 
that The laws of the material world are better observed than 
those of the moral ; the meaning of the word law, in the two 
cases to which it is here applied, being so totally different, as to 
render the comparison or contrast, in the statement of which it 
is involved, altogether illusory and sophistical. Indeed, nothing 
more is necessary to strip the proposition of every semblance 
of plausibility, but an attention to this verbal ambiguity. 

This metaphorical employment of the word law, to express a 
general fact, although it does not appear to have been adopted 
in the technical phraseology of ancient philosophy, is not un- 
usual among the classical writers, when speaking of those phys* 



466 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

ical arrangements, whether on the earth or in the heavens, 
which continue to exhibit the same appearance from age to age. 

" Hie segetes, illic veniunt felicius uvae : 
Arborei fetus alibi, atque injussa virescunt 
Gramina. Nonne vides, croceos ut Tmolos odores, 
India mittit ebur, molles sua thura Sabaei ? 
At Chalybes nudi fei'rum, virosaque Pontus 
Castorea, Eliadum palmas Epiros equarum ? 
Continuo has leges, ceternaquefoedera certis 
Imposuit natura locis." 

Virg. Georg. i. 60.* 

The same metaphor occurs in another passage of the Georg- 
ics, where the poet describes the regularity which is exhibited 
in the economy of the bees : — 

" Solae communes natos, consortia tecta 
Urbis habent, magnisque agitant sub legibus aevum." 

Georg. iv. 153.t 

The following lines from Ovid's account of the Pythagorean 
philosophy, are still more in point : — 

" Et rerum causas, et quid natura docebat ; 
Quid Deus : Unde nives : quae fulminis esset origo : 
Jupiter, an venti, discussa nube tonarent : 
Quid quateret terras, qua, sidera lege mearent, 
Et quodcunque latet." 

Ovid. Met. xv. 68.J 



* [" Here golden corn, there luscious grapes abound, 

There grass spontaneous, or rich fruits are found ; 

See'st thou not Tmolus saffron sweets dispense, 

Her ivory Ind, Arabia frankincense, 

The naked Chalybes their iron ore ? 

To Castor PoDtus gives its fetid power ; 

While, for Olympic games, Epirus breeds, 

To whirl the circling car, the swiftest steeds. 

Nature, these laws and these eternal bands 

First fixed on certain climes and certain lands." 

Warton's translation.] 
t [" They, they alone a general interest share, 

Their young committing to the public care, 

And all concurring in the common cause, 

Live in fixed cities under common laws." 

Warton.] 
1 1" While he discoursed of heaven's mysterious laws, 

The worlds original and nature's cause ; 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 467 

Sagacity and foresight dependent on the uniformity of the 
laws of nature. — I have quoted these different passages from 
ancient authors, chiefly as an illustration of the strength and 
of the similarity of the impression which the order of nature 
has made on the minds of reflecting men, in all ages of the 



And what was God, and why the fleecy snows 

In silence fell, and rattling winds arose 

That shook the steadfast earth, and whence began, 

The dance of planets round the radiant sun ; 

If thunder was the angry voice of Jove, 

Or clouds with nitre fragrant burst above ; — 

Of these, and things beyond the common reach, 

He spoke, and charmed his audience with his speech." 

Dryden's translation.] 

I shall only add to these quotations the epigram of Claudian on the 
instrument said to be invented by Archimedes for representing the move- 
ments of the heavenly bodies, in which various expressions occur coincid- 
ing remarkably with the scope of the foregoing observations. 

" Jupiter in parvo cum cerneret asthera vitro 

Risit, et ad superos talia dicat dedit. 
Huccine mortalis progressa potentia curae ; 

Jam meus in fragili luditur orde labor. 
Jura Poli, rerumque fidem, legesque Deorum 

Ecce Syracusius transtulit arte senex. 
Inclusus variis famulatur spiritus astris, 

Et vivuni certis motibus urget opus. 
Percurrit proprium mentitus signifer annum, 

Et simulata novo Cynthia mense redifc. 
Jamque suum volvens audax industria mundum 

Gaudet, et humana sidera mente regit. 
Quid falso insontem tonitru Salraomea miror ? 

JSmula naturae parva reperta nianus." 

[ When Jove beheld a crystal globe display 

The world, he thus addressed Olympus' train . — 
Can mortals o'er the sphere possess such sway, 

And such a toy my power deride as vain? 
Great Heaven's decrees, th' unerring course of things, 

Laws of the gods, expounds Sicilia's sage ; 
The flight of stars imprisoned air here wings, 

Its simple powers their varying movements guage; 
The Zodiac here revolves its little year, 

The mimic moons succeeding months restore ; 
The spheres by human art attuned are here, 

Impelled by it the stars in ether soar. 
Instructed hence, no longer view with wonder 
Salmoneus' chariot and his bridge of thunder. 

Wrigtt'i translation.] 



468 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

world. Nor is this wonderful ; for, were things differently con- 
stituted, it would be impossible for man to derive benefit from 
experience ; and the powers of observation and memory would 
be subservient only to the gratification of an idle curiosity.* In 
consequence of those uniform laws by which the succession of 
events is actually regulated, every fact collected with respect to 
the past is a foundation of sagacity and of skill with respect to 
the future ; and, in truth, it is chiefly this application of expe- 
rience to anticipate what is yet to happen, which forms the in- 
tellectual superiority of one individual over another. The 
remark holds equally in all the various pursuits of mankind, 
whether speculative or active. As an astronomer is able, by 
reasonings founded on past observations, to predict those phe- 
nomena of the heavens which astonish or terrify the savage ; — 
as the chemist, from his previous familiarity with the changes 
operated upon bodies by heat or by mixture, can predict the 
result of innumerable experiments, which to others furnish only 
matter of amusement and wonder ; — so a studious observer of 
human affairs acquires a prophetic foresight (still more incom- 
prehensible to the multitude) with respect to the future fortunes 
of mankind ; — a foresight which, if it does not reach, like our 
anticipations in physical science, to particular and definite 
events, amply compensates for what it wants in precision, by 
the extent and variety of the prospects which it opens. It is 
from this apprehended analogy between the future and the past, 
that historical knowledge derives the whole of its value ; and were 
the analogy completely to fail, the records of former ages would, 
in point of utility, rank with the fictions of poetry. Nor is the 
case different in the business of common life. Upon what does 
the success of men in their private concerns so essentially de- 
pend as on their own prudence ; and what else does this word 
mean, than a wise regard, in every step of their conduct, to the 
lessons which experience has taught them ? 

Illustrations of the uniformity of natural laws. — The depart- 



* [See note to page 214.] 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 400 

ments of the universe in which we have an opportunity of see- 
ing this regular order displayed, are the three following : — 1. 
The phenomena of inanimate matter ; 2. The phenomena of 
the lower animals ; and, 3. The phenomena exhibited by the 
human race. 

1. On the first of these heads, I have only to repeat what 
was before remarked, That in all the phenomena of the material 
world, the uniformity in the order of events is conceived by us to 
be complete and infallible; insomuch that, to be assured of the 
same result upon a repetition of the same experiment, we re- 
quire only to be satisfied, that both have been made in circum- 
stances precisely similar. A single experiment, accordingly, if 
conducted with due attention, is considered, by the most cautious 
inquirers, as sufficient to establish a general physical fact ; and 
if, on any occasion, it should be repeated a second time, for the 
sake of greater certainty in the conclusion, it is merely with a 
view of guarding against the effects of the accidental concomi- 
tants which may have escaped notice, when the first result was 
obtained. 

2. The case is nearly similar in the phenomena exhibited by 
the brutes, the various tribes of which furnish a subject of ex- 
amination so steady, that the remarks made on a few individuals 
may be extended, with little risk of error, to the whole species. 
To this uniformity in their instincts it is owing, that man can so 
easily maintain his empire over them, and employ them as 
agents or instruments for accomplishing his purposes ; advan- 
tages which would be wholly lost to him, if the operations of 
instinct were as much diversified as those of human reason. 
Here, therefore, we may plainly trace a purpose or design, per- 
fectly analogous to that already remarked, with respect to the 
laws which regulate the material world ; and the difference in 
point of exact uniformity, which distinguishes the two classes 
of events, obviously arises from a certain latitude of action, 
which enables the brutes to accommodate themselves, in some 
measure, to their accidental situations ; — rendering them, in 
consequence of this power of accommodation, incomparably 
more serviceable to our race than they would have been, if alto- 

40 



470 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

gether subjected, like mere matter, to the influence of regular 
and assignable causes. It is, moreover, extremely worthy of 
observation, concerning these two departments of the universe, 
that the uniformity in the phenomena of the latter [the brutes] 
presupposes a corresponding regularity in the phenomena of the 
former [inanimate matter] ; insomuch that, if the established 
order of the material world were to be essentially disturbed 
(the instincts of the brutes remaining the same) all their various 
tribes would inevitably perish. The uniformity of animal in- 
stinct, therefore, bears a reference to the constancy and immu- 
tability of physical laws, not less manifest, than that of the fin 
of the fish to the properties of the water, or of the wing of the 
bird to those of the atmosphere. 

3. When from the phenomena of inanimate matter and those 
of the lower animals, we turn our attention to the history of our 
own species, innumerable lessons present themselves for the 
instruction of all who reflect seriously on the great concerns of 
human life. These lessons require, indeed, an uncommon de- 
gree of acuteness and good sense to collect them, and a still 
more uncommon degree of caution to apply them to practice ; 
not only because it is difficult to find cases in which the combi- 
nations of circumstances are exactly the same, but because the 
peculiarities of individual character are infinite, and the real 
springs of. action in our fellow-creatures are objects only of 
vague and doubtful conjecture. It is, however, a curious fact, 
and one which opens a wide field of interesting speculation, 
that, in proportion as we extend our views from particulars to 
generals, and from individuals to communities, human affairs 
exhibit more and more, a steady subject of philosophical examin- 
ation, and furnish a greater number of general conclusions to 
guide our conjectures concerning future contingencies. To 
speculate concerning the character or talents of the individual 
who shall possess the throne of a particular kingdom a hundred 
years hence, would be absurd in the extreme : but to indulge 
imagination in anticipating, at the same distance of time, the 
condition and character of any great nation, with whose man- 
ners and political situation we are well acquainted, (although 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 471 

Gv n here our conclusions may be widely erroneous,) could not 
be justly censured as a misapplication of our faculties equally 
vain and irrational with the former. On this subject Mr. Hume 
has made some very ingenious and important remarks in the 
beginning of his Essay on the Rise and Progress of the Arts 
and Sciences.* 

Uniformity in the general result preserved amidst unbounded 
variety in the particulars. — The same observation is applicable 



* [The following is the passage referred to. 

" Nothing requires greater nicety, in our inquiries concerning human 
affairs, than to distinguish exactly what is owing to chance, and what pro- 
ceeds from causes; nor is there any subject in which an author is more lia- 
ble to deceive himself by false subtilties and refinements. To say that 
any event is derived from chance, cuts short all further inquiry concerning 
it, and leaves the writer in the same state of ignorance with the rest of 
mankind. But when the event is supposed to proceed from certain and 
stable causes, he may then display his ingenuity in assigning these causes ; 
and as a man of any subtilty can never be at any loss in this particular, he 
has thereby an opportunity of swelling his volumes, and discovering his 
profound knowledge in observing what escapes the vulgar and ignorant. 

" The distinguishing between chance and causes must depend upon every 
particular man's sagacity in considering every particular incident. But if 
I were to assign any general rule to help us in applying this distinction, it 
would be the following : What depends upon a few persons is, in a great meas- 
ure, to be ascribed to chance; what arises from a great number may often be ac- 
counted for by determinate and known causes. 

" Two natural reasons may be assigned for this rule. First, if you sup- 
pose a die to have any bias, however small, to a particular side, this bias, 
though perhaps it may not appear in a few throws, will certainly prevail in 
a great number, and will cast the balance entirely to that side. In like 
manner, when any causes beget a particular inclination or passion, at a 
certain time, and among a certain people, though many individuals may 
escape the contagion, and be ruled by passions peculiar to themselves, yet 
the multitude will certainly be seized by the common affection, and be 
governed by it in all their actions. 

" Secondly, those principles or causes which are fitted to operate on a 
multitude, are always of a grosser and more stubborn nature, less subject 
to accidents, and less influenced by whim and private fancy, than those 
which operate on a few only. The latter are commonly so delicate and 
refined, that the smallest incident in the health, education, or fortune of a 
particular person, is sufficient to divert their course and retard their opera- 



472 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

to all other cases in which events depend on a multiplicity of 
circumstances. How accidental soever these circumstances may 
appear, and how much soever they may be placed, when indi- 
vidually considered, beyond the reach of our calculations, expe- 
rience shows, that they are somehow or other mutually adjusted, 
so as to produce a certain degree of uniformity in the result, 
and this uniformity is the more complete, the greater is the 
number of circumstances combined. What can appear more un- 
certain than the proportion between the sexes among the chil- 
dren of any one family ? and yet how wonderfully is the bal- 



tion ; nor is it possible to reduce them to any general maxims or observa- 
tions. Their influence at one time will never assure us concerning their 
influence at another, even though ali the general circumstances should be 
the same in both cases. 

" To judge by this rule, the domestic and the gradual revolutions of a 
state must be a more proper subject of reasoning and observation than the 
foreign and the violent, which are commonly produced by single persons, 
and are more influenced by whim, folly, or caprice, than by general pas- 
sions and interests. The depression of the Lords, and the rise of the 
Commons in England, after the statutes of alienation and the increase of 
trade and industry, are more easily accounted for by general principles, 
than the depression of the Spanish and rise of the French monarchy after 
the death of Charles Quint. Had Harry IV., Cardinal Richelieu, and 
Louis XIV. been Spaniards, and Philip II., Philip III., Philip IV., and 
Charles II. been Prenchmen, the history of these two nations had been 
entirely reversed. 

" Por the same reason, ft is more easy to account for the rise and pro- 
gress of commerce in any kingdom, than for that of learning ; and a state, 
which should apply itself to the encouragement of one, would be moi'e 
assured of success than one which should cultivate the other. Avarice, 
or the desire of gain, is an universal passion, which operates at all times, 
in all places, and upon all persons ; but curiosity, or the love of knowledge, 
has a very limited influence, and requires youth, leisui'e, education, genius, 
and example to make it govern any person. You will never want book- 
sellers, while there are buyers of books ; but there may frequently be 
readers, where there are no authors. Multitudes of people, necessity, and 
liberty have begotten commerce in Holland ; but study and application 
have scarcely produced any eminent writers." — Hume's Works, III. 119- 
121. 

As society is composed only of individuals, the movements and aspects 
of society could not be predicted, if the actions of the individual members 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 473 

ance preserved in the case of a numerous society ! What more 
precarious than the duration of life in an individual ? and yet, 
in a long list of persons of the same age, and placed in the 
same circumstances, the mean duration of life is found to vary 
within very narrow limits. In an extensive district, too, a con- 
siderable degree of regularity may sometimes be traced for a 
course of years, in the proportion of births and of deaths to the 
number of the whole inhabitants. Thus, in France, Necker 
informs us, that " the number of births is in proportion to that 
of the inhabitants as one to twenty-three and twenty -four, in 
the districts that are not favored by nature, nor by moral cir- 
cumstances ; this proportion is as one to twenty -five, twenty- 
were not, at least in certain respects, subject to law. The reality and the 
possibility of such sciences as politics and political economy, depend on 
the known facts, that the actions of men are influenced by motives, that 
there are certain leading motives, such as the desire of life, health, free- 
dom, and property, which are common to all men, and therefore that the 
conduct of men on certain occasions, and to a certain extent, can be an- 
ticipated with full confidence that the prediction will be justified by the 
result. Were it not so, no general maxims could be established in political 
or social science, and no lessons could be derived from history. The con- 
duct of men offers the same combination of uniformity with variety, of 
unity of principle underlying innumerable differences of detail, which is 
seen in the works of God in the external universe. According as the ob- 
server stands nearer or further off, according as his object is to arrange 
and classify for the purposes of science, or to particularize for the sake of 
description, so will he be more struck with the evidences of order and uni- 
formity, or with those of diversity and fluctuation. Look at great masses 
of men only from a distance, at which minute peculiarities are lost in the 
general effects, (just as the sounds from a distant city are blended in one 
hollow murmur,) and they appear like machines, or rather the multitude 
itself seems one great machine. But examine microscopically the conduct 
of an individual for two successive hours, and it appears a mass of incon- 
sistencies, motiveless alterations, and oddities that baffle all computation 
and foresight. The mill alone, it is true, is changeful and irregular, its 
very caprice indicating its freedom ; but will, when influenced by some 
ruling passion and enlightened by reason, is comparatively steady and uni- 
form in its operations ; and will enlightened by infinite wisdom, we may 
presume, knows no change of purpose or shifting of means, but reconciles 
perfect order with endless variety. And such is the character, both of the 
material and moral universe.] 

40* 



474 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

five and a half, and twenty-six, in the greatest part of France ; 
in cities, as one to twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, and 
even thirty, according to their extent and their trade." " Such 
proportions," he observes, " can only be remarked in districts 
where there are no settlers nor emigrants ; but even the 
differences arising from these (the same author adds), and 
many other causes, acquire a kind of uniformity, when collec- 
tively considered, and in the immense extent of so great a 
kingdom." 

It may be worth while to remark, that it is on these princi- 
ples that all the different institutions for assurances [insurance] 
are founded. The object at which they all aim, in common, is, 
to diminish the number of accidents to which human life is ex- 
posed, or rather to counteract the inconveniences resulting from 
the irregularity of individual events, by the uniformity of gen- 
eral laws. 

The idea of a great cycle in the order of events. — The ad- 
vantages which we derive from such general conclusions as we 
possess concerning the order of nature are so great, and our 
propensity to believe in its existence is so strong, that, even in 
cases where the succession of events appears the most anoma- 
lous, we are apt to suspect the operation of fixed and constant 
laws, though we may be unable to trace them. The vulgar, in 
all countries, perhaps, have a propensity to imagine, that, after 
a certain number of years, the succession of plentiful and of 
scanty harvests begins again to be repeated in the same series as 
before, a notion to which Lord Bacon himself has given some 
countenance in the following passage : " There is a toy which I 
have heard, and I would not have it given over, but waited 
upon a little. They say it is observed in the Low Countries, 
(I know not in what part,) that every five-and-thirty years, the 
same kind and suite of years and weathers comes about again ; 
as great frosts, great wet, great droughts, warm winters, sum- 
mers with little heat, and the like ; and they call it the prime. 
It is a thing I do the rather mention, because, computing back- 
wards, I have found some concurrence." 

Among the philosophers of antiquity, the influence of tho 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 475 

same prejudice is observable on a scale still greater, many of 
them having supposed, that at the end of the annus magnus, or 
Platonic year, a repetition would commence of all the transac- 
tions that have occurred on the theatre of the world. Accord- 
ing to this doctrine, the predictions in Virgil's Pollio will, 
sooner or later, be literally accomplished : — 

'Alter erit turn Typhis, et altera quae vehat Argo 
Delectos Heroas ; erunt etiam altera bella ; 
Atque iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achilles."* 

[" And other Argos bear the chosen powers ; 
New wars the bleeding nations shall destroy, 
And great Achilles find a second Troy."j 

The astronomical cycles which the Greeks borrowed from the 
Egyptians and Chaldeans, when combined with that natural 
bias of the mind which I have just remarked, account suffi- 
ciently for this extension to the moral world, of ideas suggested 
by the order of physical phenomena. 

Use made by the fatalists of this conjecture. — Nor is thi3 
hypothesis of a moral cycle, extravagant as it unquestionably 
is, without its partizans among modern theorists. The train of 
thought, indeed, by which they have been led to adopt it, is 
essentially different ; but it probably received no small degree 
of countenance in their opinion, from the same bias which influ- 
enced the speculations of the ancients. It has been demon- 
strated by one of the most profound mathematicians of the 



* " Turn e.fficitur," says Cicero, speaking of this period, "cum solis ct 
lunae, et quinque errantium ad eandem inter se, comparationem confectis 
omnium spatiis, est facta conversio. Quae quam longa sit, magna quaes- 
tio est ; esse vero certam et definitam necesse est." fit is then effected, 
when the revolutions of the sun and moon and five planets being com- 
pleted, they have come round to the same relative place with each other 
as before. How long this period may be, is a great question ; but it must 
necessarily be a fixed and definite period.] — De Nat. Deorum, lib. ii. 7-4. 
*' Hoc intervallo," Clavius observes, " quidam volunt, omnia quoacunque 
in mundo sunt, eodem ordine esse reditura, quo nunc cernuntur." [After 
this interval, some maintain, all things in the world will come round into 
the same order in which they are now.] — Clav. Commentar. in Spharam. 



4:76 KEASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

present age, (M. de la Grange,) thafr all the irregularities aris- 
ing from the mutual action of the planets are, by a combination 
of various arrangements, necessarily subjected to certain peri- 
odical laws, so as forever to secure the stability and order of 
the system. Of this sublime conclusion, it has been justly and 
beautifully observed, that " after Newton's theory of the ellip- 
tic orbits of the planets, La Grange's discovery, of their period- 
ical inequalities, is, without doubt, the noblest truth in physical 
astronomy ; while, in respect of the doctrinevof final causes, it 
may truly be regarded as the greatest of all." The theorists, 
however, to whom I at present allude, seem disposed to con- 
sider it in a very different light, and to employ it for purposes 
of a very different tendency. " Similar periods, it has been 
said, but of an extent that affright the imagination, probably 
regulate the modifications of the atmosphere ; inasmuch as the 
same series of appearances must inevitably recur, whenever a 
coincidence of circumstances take place. The aggregate labors 
of men, indeed, may be supposed, at first sight, to alter the 
operation of natural causes, by continually transforming the 
face of our globe ; but it must be recollected that, as the agency 
of animals is itself stimulated and determined solely by the 
influence of external objects, the reactions of living beings are 
comprehended in the same necessary system ; and, consequently, 
that all the events within the immeasurable circuit of the uni- 
verse, are the successive evolution of an extended series, 
which, at the return of some vast period, repeats its eternal 
round during the endless flux of time." * 



* The foregoing passage is transcribed from an article in the Monthly 
Review. I have neglected to mark the volume ; but I think it is one of 
those published since 1800. 

From some expressions in this quotation, it would seem that the writer 
considered it as now established by mathematical demonstration, not only 
that a provision is made for maintaining the order and the stability of the 
solar system ; but that, after certain periods, all the changes arising from 
the mutual actions of the planets, begin again to be repeated over in an 
invariable and eternal round , — or rather, that all this is the result of the 
accessary properties of matter and of motion. The truth is, that this 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 477 

On this very bold argument, considered in its connection 
with the scheme of necessity, I have nothing to observe here. 
I have mentioned it merely as an additional proof of that irre- 
sistible propensity to believe in the permanent order of physi- 
cal events, which seems to form an original principle of the 
human constitution ; — a belief essential to our existence in the 
world which we inhabit, as well as the foundation of all physi- 
cal science ; but which we obviously extend far beyond the 
bounds authorized by sound philosophy, when we apply it, with- 
out any limitation, to that moral system, which is distinguished 
by peculiar characteristics, so numerous and important, and for 
the accommodation of which, so many reasons entitle us to pre- 



assumption is quite unfounded, in point of fact ; and that the astronomi- 
cal discovery in question, affords not the slightest analogical presumption 
in favor of a moral cycle ; — even on the supposition, that the actions of the 
human race, and the motions of the globes which they inhabit, were both 
equally subjected to the laws of mechanism. 

The quotation which gave occasion to the foregoing stricture, induces 
me to add, before concluding this note, that when we speak of La Grange's 
Demonstration of the stability of the solar system, it is by no means to be 
understood that he has proved, by mathematical reasoning, that this system 
never will, nor ever can, come to an end. The amount of his truly sublime 
discovery is, that the system does not, as Newton imagined, contain within 
itself, like the workmanship of mortal hands, the elements of its own decay ; 
and that, therefore, its final dissolution is to be looked for, not from the 
operation of physical causes, subjected to the calculations of astronomers, 
but from the will of that Almighty Being, by whose fiat it was at first 
called into existence. That this stability is a necessary consequence of 
the general laws by which we find the system to be governed, may, indeed, 
be assumed as a demonstrated proposition ; but it must always be remem- 
bered, that this necessity is only hypothetical or conditional, being itself de- 
pendent on the continuance of laws, which may at pleasure be altered or 
suspended. 

The whole of the argument in the text, on the permanence or stability 
of the order of nature, is manifestly to bo understood with similar restric- 
tions. It relates, not to necessary, but to probable truths; not to conclusions 
Byllogistically deduced from abstract principles, but to future contingen 
cies, which we are determined to expect by a fundamental law of belief 
adapted to the present scene of our speculations and actions 



479 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

sume, that the material universe, with all its constant and har- 
monious laws, was purposely arranged. 

Popular superstitions founded on the uniformity of the laws 
of nature. — To a hasty and injudicious application of* the same 
belief, in anticipating the future course of human affairs, might 
be traced a variety of popular superstitions, which have pre- 
vailed, in a greater or less degree, in all nations and ages ; 
those superstitions, for example, which have given rise to the 
study of charms, of omens, of astrology, and the different arts 
of divination. But the argument has been already prosecuted 
as far as its connection with this part of the subject requires. 
For a fuller illustration of it, I refer to some remarks On page 
217, on the superstitious observances which, among rude na- 
tions, are constantly found blended with the practice of physic; 
and which, contemptible and ludicrous as they seem, have an 
obvious foundation, during the infancy of human reason, in 
those important principles of our nature, which, when duly dis- 
ciplined by a more enlarged experience, lead to the sublime 
discoveries of inductive science. 

Nor is it to the earlier stages of society, or to the lower 
classes of the people, that these superstitions are confined. 
Even in the most enlightened and refined periods, they occa- 
sionally appear ; exercising, not unfrequently, over men of the 
highest genius and talents, an ascendant which is at once con- 
solatory and humiliating to the species. 

" Ecce fulgurum monitus, oraculorum praescita, aruspicum 
praedicta, atque etiam parva dictu in auguriis, sternutamenta et 
offensiones pedum. Divus Augustus lsevum prodidit sibi calceum 
praepostere inductum, quo die seditione militari prope afflictus 
est." [Consider the warnings of thunder, the presages of ora- 
cles, the predictions of soothsayers, and even such insignificant 
circumstances in augury as sneezing and stumbling. The em- 
peror Augustus said, he put on his left shoe instead of his right, 
on the day when he nearly perished in a mutiny.] (Plin. Nat. 
Hist. lib. ii.) 

" Dr. Johnson," says his affectionate and very communica- 
tive biographer, " had another particularity, of which none )f 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. -179 

his friends ever ventured to ask an explanation. It appeared 
to me some superstitious habit, which he had contracted early, 
and from which he had never called upon his reason to disen- 
tangle him. This was his anxious care to go out or in at a 
door or passage, by a certain number of steps from a certain 
point, or at least, so as that either his right or his left foot (I 
am not certain which) should constantly make the first actual 
movement when he came close to the door or passage. Thus I 
conjecture ; for I have, upon innumerable occasions, observed 
him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps with a deep 
earnestness ; and when he had neglected or gone wrong in this 
sort of magical movement, I have seen him go back again, put 
himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and having 
gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, 
and join his companion." 

The remark may appear somewhat out of place, but. after 
the last quotation, I may be permitted to say, that the person 
to whom it relates, great as his powers and splendid as his ac- 
complishments undoubtedly were, was scarcely entitled to 
assert, that " Education is as well known, and has long been as 
well known, as ever it can be." What a limited estimate of 
the objects of education must this great man have formed ! 
They who know the value of a well regulated and unclouded 
mind, would not incur the weakness and wretchedness exhibited 
in the foregoing description, for all his literary acquirements 
and literary fame. 

3. General remarks on the difference between the evidence of 
experience, and that of analogy. — According to the account of 
experience which has been hitherto given, its evidence reaches 
no further than to an anticipation of the future from the past, in 
cases where the same physical cause continues to operate in exactly 
the same circumstances. That this statement is agreeable to the 
strict philosophical notion of experience, will not be disputed. 
Wherever a change takes place, either in the cause itself, or in 
the circumstances combined with it in our former trials, the an- 
ticipations which we form of the future cannot with propriety 
be referred to experience alone, but to experience cooperating 



480 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

with some other principles of our nature. In common discourse, 
however, precision in the use of language is not to be expected, 
where logical or metaphysical ideas are at all concerned ; and 
therefore, it is not to be wondered at, that the word experience 
should often be employed with a latitude greatly beyond what 
the former definition authorizes. When I transfer, for example, 
my conclusions concerning the descent of heavy bodies from 
one stone to another stone, or even from a stone to a leaden 
bullet, my inference might be said, with sufficient accuracy for 
the ordinary purposes of speech, to have the evidence of expe- 
rience in its favor ; if, indeed, it would not savor of scholastic 
affectation to aim at a more rigorous enunciation of the propo- 
sition. Nothing at the same time can be more evident than 
this, that the slightest shade of difference which tends to weaken 
the resemblance, or rather to destroy the identity of two cases, 
invalidates the inference from the one to the other, as far as it 
rests on experience solely, no less than the most prominent dis- 
similitudes which characterize the different kingdoms and de- 
partments of nature. 

Upon what ground do I conclude that the thrust of a sword 
through my body, in a particular direction, would be followed 
by instant death? According to the popular use of language, 
the obvious answer would be, — upon experience, and experi- 
ence alone. But surely this account of the matter is extremely 
loose and incorrect ; for where is the evidence that the internal 
structure of my body bears any resemblance to that of any of 
the other bodies which have been hitherto examined by anato- 
mists ? It is no answer to this question to tell me, that the 
experience of these anatomists has ascertained a uniformity of 
structure in every human subject which has as yet been dis- 
sected ; and that therefore I am justified in concluding, that my 
body forms no exception to the general rule. My question does 
not relate to the soundness of this inference, but to the princi- 
ple of my nature, which leads me thus not only to reason from 
the past to the future, but to reason from one thing to another 
which, in its external marks, bears a certain degree of resem- 
blance to it. Something more than experience, in the strictest 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 481 

sense of that word, is surely necessary to explain the transition 
from what is identically the same, to what is only similar ; and 
yet my inference in this instance is made with the most assured 
and unqualified confidence in the infallibility of the result. No 
inference, founded on the most direct and long continued expe- 
rience, nor indeed any proposition established by mathematical 
demonstration, could more imperiously command my assent. 

In whatever manner the province of experience, strictly so 
called, comes to be thus enlarged, it is perfectly manifest, that 
without some provision for this purpose, the principles of our 
constitution would not have been duly adjusted to the scene in 
which we have to act. Were we not so formed as eagerly to 
seize the resembling features of different things and different 
events, and to extend our conclusions from the individual to the 
species, life would elapse before we had acquired the first rudi- 
ments of that knowledge which is essential to the preservation 
of our animal existence. 

This step in the history of the human mind has been little, if 
at all, attended to by philosophers ; and it is certainly not easy 
to explain, in a manner completely satisfactory, how it is made. 
The following hints seem to me to go a considerable way 
towards a solution of the difficulty. 

How experience is made to extend to cases not precisely paral- 
lel. — It is remarked by Mr. Smith, in his considerations on the 
formation of languages, that the origin of genera and species, 
which is commonly represented in the schools as the effect of 
an intellectual process peculiarly mysterious and unintelligible, 
is a natural consequence of our disposition to transfer to a new 
object the name of any other familiar object, which possesses such 
a degree of resemblance to it as to serve the memory for an asso- 
ciating tie between them. It is in this manner, he has shown, 
and not by any formal or scientific exercise of abstraction, that, 
in the infancy of language, proper names are gradually trans- 
formed into appellatives ; or, in other words, that individual 
things come to be referred to classes or assortments. 

This remark becomes, in my opinion, much more luminous 
and important, by being combined with another very original 

41 



482 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

one, which is ascribed to Turgot by Condorcet, and which I do 
not recollect to have seen taken notice of by any later writer 
on the human mind. According to the common doctrine of 
logicians, we are led to suppose, that our knowledge begins in an 
accurate and minute acquaintance with the characteristical 
properties of individual objects ; and that it is only by the slow 
exercise of comparison and abstraction, that we attain to the 
notion of classes or genera. In opposition to this idea, it was 
a maxim of Turgot's, that some of our most abstract and gen- 
eral notions are among the earliest which we form. What 
meaning he annexed to this maxim, we are not informed ; but 
if he understood it in the same sense in which I am disposed 
to interpret it, he appears to me entitled to the credit of a very 
valuable suggestion with respect to the natural progress of 
human knowledge. The truth is, that our first perceptions lead 
us invariably to confound together things which have very little 
in common; and that the specifical differences of individuals 
do not begin to be marked with precision, till the powers of ob- 
servation and reasoning have attained to a certain degree of 
maturity. To a similar indistinctness of perception, are to be 
ascribed the mistakes about the most familiar appearances 
which we daily see committed by those domesticated animals 
with Whose instincts and habits we have an opportunity of be- 
coming intimately acquainted. As an instance of this, it is 
sufficient to mention the terror which a horse sometimes dis- 
covers in passing, on the road, a large stone, or the waterfall of 
a mill. 

Two kinds of general notions. — Notwithstanding, however, 
the justness of this maxim, it is nevertheless true, that every 
scientific classification must be founded on an examination and 
comparison of individuals. These individuals must, in the 
first instance, have been observed with accuracy, before their 
specific characteristics could be rejected from the generic 
description, so as to limit the attention to the common qualities 
which it comprehends. What are usually called general ideas, 
or general notions, are therefore of two kinds, essentially differ- 
ent from each other; those which are general, merely from the 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 483 

vagueness and imperfection of our information ; and those which 
have been methodically generalized, in the way explained by 
logicians, in consequence of an abstraction founded on a care- 
ful study of particulars. Philosophical precision requires, that 
two sets of notions, so totally dissimilar, should not be con- 
founded together ; and an attention to the distinction between 
them will be found to throw much light on various important 
steps in the naturffl history of the mind.* 

Our disposition to confound things which are really differ- 
ent. — One obvious effect of the grossness and vagueness in the 
perceptions of the inexperienced observer, must necessarily be, 
to identify, under the same common appellations, immense mul- 
titudes of individuals, which the philosopher will afterwards 
find reason to distinguish carefully from each other; and as 
language, by its unavoidable reaction on thought, never fails to 
restore to it whatever imperfections it has once received, all 
the indistinctness which, in the case of individual observers, 
originated in an ill-informed judgment, or in a capricious fancy, 
comes afterwards, in succeeding ages, to be entailed on the 
infant understanding, in consequence of its incorporation with 
vernacular speech. These confused apprehensions produced 
by language must, it is easy to see, operate exactly in the 

* The distinction above stated, furnishes what seems to me the true 
answer to an argument which Charron, and many other writers since his 
time, have drawn, in proof of the reasoning powers of brutes, from the 
universal conclusions which they appear to found on the observation of 
particulars. [" Brutes form general conclusions from particular objects ; 
for, from the appearance of one man, they recognize all men."] 

Instead of saying that brutes generalize things which are similar, 
would it not be nearer the truth to say, that they confound things which 
are different. 

Many years after these observations were written, I had the satisfaction 
to meet with the following experimental confirmation of them in the Abbe 
Sicard's Course of Instruction for the Deaf and Dumb : [" I observed that 
Massieu preferred giving the same name, as «, common name, to several 
individuals, among which he saw some points of resemblance ; partic- 
ular names supposed differences among them which he had not yet ob- 
served."] — (Sicard, pp. 30, 31.) The whole of the passage is well worth 
consulting. 



4:84 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

same way as the undistinguishing perceptions of children or 
savages; the familiar use of a generic word insensibly and 
irresistibly leading the mind to extend its conclusions from the 
individual to the genus, and thus laying the foundation of con- 
clusions and anticipations, which we suppose to rest on experi- 
ence, when, in truth, experience has never been consulted. 

In all such instances, it is worthy of observation, we proceed 
ultimately on . the common principle, — that in similar circum- 
stances, the same cause will produce the same effects; and 
when we err, the source of our error lies merely in identifying 
different cases which ought to be distinguished from each other. 
Great as may be the occasional inconveniences arising from 
this general principle thus misapplied, they bear no proportion 
to the essential advantages resulting from the disposition, in 
which they originate, to arrange and to classify ; a disposition 
on which (as I have elsewhere shown) the intellectual improve- 
ment of the species in a great manner hinges. That the con- 
stitution of our nature in this respect is, on the whole, wisely 
ordered, as well as perfectly comformable to the general econ- 
omy of our frame, will appear from a slight survey of some 
other principles, nearly allied to those which are at present 
under our consideration. 

It has been remarked by some eminent writers in this part 
of the island, that our expectation of the continuance of the 
laws of nature has a very close affinity to our faith in human 
testimony. The parallel might perhaps be carried, without 
any over refinement, a little further than these writers have 
attempted; inasmuch as, in both cases, the instinctive prin- 
ciple is in the first instance unlimited, and requires, for its cor- 
rection and regulation, the lessons of subsequent experience. 
As the credulity of children is originally without bounds, and 
is afterwards gradually checked by the examples which they 
occasionally meet with of human falsehood, so, in the infancy 
of our knowledge, whatever objects or events present to our 
senses a strong resemblance to each other, dispose us, without 
any very accurate examination of the minute details by which 
they may be really discriminated, to conclude with eagerness, 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 485 

th M * the experiments and observations which we make with 
respect to one individual, may be safely extended to the whole 
class. It is experience alone that teaches us caution in such 
inferences, and subjects the natural principle to the discipline 
prescribed by the rules of induction. 

How this disposition is corrected. — It must not, however, be 
imagined, that, in instances of this sort, the instinctive principle 
always leads us astray ; for the analogical anticipations which 
it disposes us to form, although they may not stand the test of 
a rigorous examination, may yet be sufficiently just for all the 
common purposes of life. It is natural, for example, that a 
man who has been educated in Europe should expect, when he 
changes his residence to any of the other quarters of the globe, 
to see heavy bodies fall downwards, and smoke to ascend, agree- 
ably to the general laws to which he has been accustomed ; and 
that he should take for granted, in providing the means of his 
subsistence, that the animals and vegetables which he has found 
to be salutary and nutritious in his native regions, possess the 
same qualities wherever they exhibit the same appearances. 
Nor are such expectations less useful than natural ; for they are 
completely realized, as far as they minister to the gratification 
of our more urgent wants. It is only when we begin to indulge 
our curiosity with respect to those nicer details, which derive 
their interest from great refinement in the arts, or from a very 
advanced state of physical knowledge, that we discover our first 
conclusions, however just in the main, not to be mathematically 
exact; and are led by those habits which scientific pursuits 
communicate, to investigate the difference of circumstances 
to which the variety in the result is owing. After having 
found that heavy bodies fall downwards at the equator 
as they do in this island, the most obvious, and perhaps, on 
a superficial view of the question, the most reasonable, infer- 
ence would be, that the same pendulum which swings seconds 
at London, will vibrate at the same rate under the line. In 
this instance, however, the theoretical inference is contradicted 
by the fact; — but the contradiction is attended with no 
practical inconvenience to the multitude, while, in the mind 

41* 



£86 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

of the philosopher, it only serves to awaken his attention to 
the different circumstances of the two cases, and, in the last re- 
sult, throws a new lustre on the simplicity and uniformity of 
that law, from which it seemed, at first sight, an anomalous 
deviation. 

Illustration from the uniformity of the laws of grammar. — 
To this uniformity in the laws which regulate the order of phys- 
ical events, there is something extremely similar in the system- 
atical regularity (subject indeed to many exceptions) which, 
in every language, however imperfect, runs through the differ- 
ent classes of its words, in respect of their inflexions, forms of 
derivation, and other verbal filiations or affinities. How much 
this regularity or analogy (as it is called by grammarians), con- 
tributes to facilitate the acquisition of dead and foreign lan- 
guages, every person, who has received a liberal education, 
knows from his own experience. Nor is it less manifest, that 
the same circumstance must contribute powerfully to aid the 
memories of children in learning to speak their mother-tongue. 
It is not my present business to trace the principles in the hu- 
man mind by which it is produced. All that I would remark 
is, the very early period at which it is seized by children ; as is 
strongly evinced by their disposition to push it a great deal too 
far, in their first attempts towards speech. This disposition 
seems to be closely connected with that which leads them to 
repose faith in testimony ; and it also bears a striking resem- 
blance to that which prompts them to extend their past expe- 
rience to those objects and events of which they had not hitherto 
had any means of acquiring a direct knowledge. It is proba- 
ble, indeed, that our expectation, in all these cases, has its ori- 
gin in the same common principles of our nature ; and it is 
certain, that, in all of them, it is subservient to the important 
purpose of facilitating the progress of the mind. Of this no- 
body can doubt, who considers for a moment, that the great end 
to be first accomplished was manifestly the communication of 
the general rule ; the acquisition of the exceptions (a knowl- 
edge of which is but of secondary importance) being safely 
intrusted to the growing diligence and capacity of the learner. 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 487 

The considerations now stated, may help us to conceive in 
what manner conclusions derived from experience come to be 
insensibly extended from the individual to the species ; partly 
in consequence of the gross and undistinguishing nature of our 
first perceptions, and partly in consequence of the magical in- 
fluence of a common name. They seem also to show, that this 
natural process of thought, though not always justified by a 
sound logic, is not without its use in the infancy of human 
knowledge. 

4. Evidence of testimony tacitly recognized as a ground of be- 
lief in our most certain conclusions concerning contingent truths. 
— In some of the conclusions which have been already under 
our consideration with respect to contingent truths, a species of 
evidence is admitted, of which no mention has hitherto been 
made ; 1 mean the evidence of testimony. In astronomical cal- 
culations, for example, how few are the instances in which the 
data rest on the evidence of our own senses ; and yet our con- 
fidence in the result is not, on that account, in the smallest de- 
gree weakened. On the contrary, what certainty can be more 
complete than that with which we look forward to an eclipse of 
the sun or the moon, on the faith of elements and of computa- 
tions which we have never verified, and for the accuracy of 
which we have no ground of assurance whatever, but the scien- 
tific reputation of the writers from whom we have borrowed 
them. An astronomer who should affect any skepticism with 
respect to an event so predicted, would render himself no less 
an object of ridicule, than if he were disposed to cavil about 
the certainty of the sun's rising to-morrow. 

Even in pure mathematics, a similar regard to testimony, ac- 
companied with a similar faith in the faculties of others, is by 
no means uncommon. Who would scruple, in a geometrical 
investigation, to adopt as a link in the chain, a theorem of Apol- 
lonius or of Archimedes, although he might not have leisure at 
the moment to satisfy himself, by an actual examination of their 
demonstrations, that they had been guilty of no paralogism, 
either from accident or design, in the course of their reasonings 3 



488 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

Difference between the logical and the popular meaning of the 
word probability. — In our anticipations of astronomical phe- 
nomena, as well as in those which we form concerning the result 
of any familiar experiment in physics, philosophers are accus- 
tomed to speak of the event as only probable, although our con- 
fidence in its happening is not less complete than if it rested on 
the basis of mathematical demonstration. The word probable, 
therefore, when thus used, does not imply any deficiency in the 
proof but only marks the particular nature of that proof as con- 
tradistinguished from another species of evidence. It is opposed, 
not to what is certain, but to what admits of being demonstrated 
after the manner of mathematicians. This differs widely from 
the meaning annexed to the same word in popular discourse : 
according to which, whatever event is said to be probable, is un- 
derstood to be expected with some degree of doubt. " As cer- 
tain as death " — " as certain as the rising of the sun " — are 
proverbial modes of expression in all countries ; and they are 
both of them, borrowed from events which, in philosophical lan- 
guage, are only probable or contingent. In like manner, the 
existence of the city of Pekin, and the reality of Caesar's assas- 
sination, which the philosopher classes with probabilities, because 
they rest solely upon the evidence of testimony, are universally 
classed with certainties by the rest of mankind ; and in any 
case but the statement of a logical theory, the application to 
such truths of the word probable, would be justly regarded as 
an impropriety of speech. This difference between the techni- 
cal meaning of the word probability, as employed by logicians, 
and the notion usually attached to it in the business of life, 
together with the erroneous theories concerning the nature of 
demonstration, which I have already endeavored to refute, — 
have led many authors of the highest name, in some of the 
most important arguments which can employ human reason, to 
overlook that irresistible evidence which was placed before their 
eyes, in search of another mode of proof altogether unattaina- 
ble in moral inquiries, and which, if it could be attained, would 
not be less liable to the cavils of skeptics. 



REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 489 

But although, in philosophical language, the epithet probable 
be applied to events which are acknowledged to be certain, it is 
also applied to those events which are called probable by the 
vulgar. The philosophical meaning of the word, therefore, is 
more comprehensive than the popular; the former denoting 
that particular species of evidence of which contingent truths 
admit ; the latter being confined to such degrees of this evidence 
as fall short of the highest. These different degrees of proba- 
bility the philosopher considers as a series, beginning with bare 
possibility, and terminating in that apprehended infallibility with 
which the phrase moral certainty is synonymous. To this last 
term of the series, the word probable is, in its ordinary accepta- 
tion, plainly inapplicable. 

The satisfaction which the astronomer derives from the exact 
coincidence, in point of time, between his theoretical predictions 
concerning the phenomena of the heavens, and the correspond- 
ing events when they actually occur, does not imply the smallest 
doubt, on his part, of the constancy of the laws of nature. It 
resolves partly into the pleasure of arriving at the knowledge 
of the same truth or of the same fact by different media ; but 
chiefly into the gratifying assurance which he thus receives, of 
the correctness of his principles, and of the competency of the 
human faculties to these sublime investigations. What exquis- 
ite delight must La Place have felt, when, by deducing from 
the theory of gravitation the cause of the acceleration of the 
moon's mean motion — an acceleration which proceeds at the 
rate of little more than 11" in a century, — he accounted, with 
such mathematical precision, for all the recorded observations 
of the place from the infancy of astronomical science ! It is 
from the length and abstruseness, however, of the reasoning 
process, and from the powerful effect produced on the imagina- 
tion, by a calculus which brings into immediate contrast with 
the immensity of time such evanescent elements as the frac- 
tional parts of a second, that the coincidence between the com- 
putation and the event appears in this instance so peculiarly 
striking. In other respects, our confidence in the future result 



/ 

490 REASONING AND DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

rests on the same principle with our expectation that the sun 
will rise to-morrow at a particular instant ; and, accordingly, 
now that the correctness of the theory has been so wonderfully 
verified by a comparison with facts, the one event is expected 
with no less assurance than the other. 



THE END 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: August 2004 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



